


Hermione Mendonica and the Werewolf Killer + 1st Summer

by HornedSerpentNine



Series: Veela's Omen Chronicles [2]
Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Alfā/Gamma/Delta + Epsilon Dynamics, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, BAMF Hermione Granger, F/F, Grey/Dark Hermione, Multi, Same Additional Tags as Prelude, Werewolves Beware!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2020-09-23 13:15:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 32,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20340709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HornedSerpentNine/pseuds/HornedSerpentNine
Summary: Year One of Hogwarts; something is stalking Hogwarts, but can Hermione figure out before it's too late?





	1. Home Away From Home

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own any Harry Potter, nor do I own any lore I found in the Wiki pages/Pottermore.  
My wonderful Beta is Rencae!  
Also, I use Google Translate,  
Also-Also, I attempt to upload on/around Saturday (Eastern Coast time)  
Also-3x, all comments and suggestions are welcome! (I always reply back!)  
Also-4x, I have a VOC Companion series (https://archiveofourown.org/series/1580833)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione meets her new school mates!

»Keep close to me, Knockturn Alley is not like Allée Noir, [Black Alley,]« Eto says as they walk down the narrow, dark alley. Disgusting Wizarding people with cloaks watch them as they walk by, clinging to the shadows. Many throw glances and shy away at Eto’s mask, as she chose to show her real face.

Eto had forgone Eeylops Owl Emporium, the Veela Alfā finding the Familiars ill suited. They enter a dingy looking shop, the shopkeeper scuttling towards them, baring his yellow teeth. That grin falters when he sees Eto. The Beta bows low, almost in half.

“How may I be of service, my Lady?” Eto narrows her glaring eye at the lowly filth.

“You and I zhall wait,” Eto orders.

“Go,” Eto gently pushes Hermione to the cages. She nods, looking the Beta up and down distastefully. She walks further into the store, eyes wandering the ceiling high aisles made of cages filled with dozens of creatures. Closing her eyes, Hermione lets her other senses heighten. She starts walking, letting instinct guide her.

Her magic hums, and she stops, opening her eyes. In a dark corner, barely fitted into its cage, is a bird. Her eyes glance down at the label.

_Lammergeier._

It’s huge, with a thick and powerful neck, the beak wicked sharp and deadly. It’s eyes, are what draw Hermione in; the right dark green, and the left dark blue. The Lammergeier is covered in scars, testaments to its prowess and survival.

Hermione’s magic reaches out to the bird’s, the Lammergeier rearing and puffing up as much as it can. It’s scream-like whistle silences everything in the shop. Grinning, she opens the cage, holding out an arm. It leaps out, stretching tall to it’s impressive height of one-hundred-twenty-two centimeters. She’s seen this bird before, but it was made of her golden magic.

Unfurling its two-point-eighty meter wingspan, it scream-whistles victory again. Hermione hears the shopkeeper yelping in pain. Her heart is beating so fast, adrenaline pumping through her as she struggles to hold up the magnificent creature. If Hermione is hazard to guess, she’d say that the Lammergeier weighs seven-point-eight kilograms.

The Lammergeier shuffles its wings, flapping hardas it climbs onto her shoulders. Hermione turns to face Eto and the shopkeeper, the Lammergeier’s weight balanced with it’s one-point-twenty-five body length, the wedge-shaped tail alone is fifty-five centimeters. The Lammergeier shifts, his large feet and lethally sharp talons never hurting her.

Eto grins, clearly pleased with Hermione’s choice. The Lammergeier lowers its small head down to Hermione’s eye level. She strokes its neck.

“This is the one.”

* * *

Lying on her bed, Hermione takes off the sound-dampening blanket from the Lammergeier’s new cage. Eto placed a _Feather-light Charm_ on it. Opening the cage, the Lammergeier flies out, circling her room, then lands on her bed. The plumage on its head, neck, breast, and legs are various darker shades of rusty-red, deep-orange, pale-white, and dark-gold.

Its back, wings, and tail are mostly dark-grey, grey-blue, and black colors, with only the topside of the wings bearing striped and spotted patterns. It waddles towards her, lowering his head, its buff breast feathers brushing the bed. She strokes it. Its forehead is creamy-white, a black band across its eyes diagonally downwards and bristles under and past the chin in a “beard”.

The Lammergeier pushes against her fingers, silently demanding more attention. It shuffles forwards, its long leg feathers fluffing up. She strokes its throat, and it whistles in a croon. She can feel her magic linking with him, and his intelligent heterochromia eyes stare at her.

*What is your name?* she trills, and it gently brushes some stray hair out of her face.

*I am Err’sh, who are you, Cage-Breaker?* He whistles softly.

*Hermione Mendonica.*

He nods, cocking his head.

*You speak Twishity like one of us, Hermione Cage-Breaker.*

She nods, and he nuzzles her, hopping onto her lap.

*I suppose I am.*

* * *

Eto Side-Apparates Hermione and Elise to Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters, bypassing the barrier in King’s Station. She didn’t realize how _loud_ everything would be; with children running around and parents calling out to one another. Even the mass of scents has Hermione stepping back against Eto. The Veela Alfā steadies her, her eye—eyes—sweeping around them.

Elise, however, is quite comfortable, smiling, chattering about nonsense. Hermione clutches her trunk with Err’sh’s cage lashed to it close to her, keeping her grounded. Err’sh is settled on her shoulders, his feathers fluffed as he dozes, his head on hers. She’s just glad that he doesn’t wrinkle her Hogwarts uniform.

Emulating Eto, Hermione casts her eyes about the crowds around them, when they find that silver-blond Omega. The crowds part a bit, revealing the pair from Diagon Alley, a third completing the set. The young wizard turns his head, his platinum-blond hair sleeked back against his head. Silver-grey eyes lock with amber-brown.

His Omega mother looks at Hermione, flicking up to Eto’s stare. The Omega whispers something to her husband, and the family look away from them. She hears the train before it appears, belching out smoke from the front and it’s scarlet sides gleaming. Hermione stands still as Elise and Eto give her hugs.

»Play the fools to your stage, Petite Présage, [Little Omen,]« Eto says. Hermione nods. Grabbing her trunk, she boards the train, the young wizard right behind her.

* * *

“I’m Alpha Draco Malfoy, we saw each other in Diagon Alley,” the Alpha drawls, sticking out his hand to shake. Hermione eyes it, taking it slowly. Hermione also leans down to place two customary air-kisses to his cheeks. He smells like apples dipped in caramel. He splutters, his pale face flushing.

Looking down at him, Hermione notes that she’s a full head and shoulders taller than him. Err’sh cocks his head at Draco’s Golden Eagle-Owl in it’s cage. The Alpha glances at her Familiar.

“Alpha Hermione Mendonica,” Hermione says, staring hard at him, and he blushes under her gaze.

“A-alright then, do you want to find a compartment?” He stutters, offering his arm. She takes it, they walk down the corridor. Draco doesn’t move out of the way of the other students, making them move around his trunk and his owl cage. Many students stare at her and Err’sh.

After passing a few full compartments, they find one with a single wizard in it. Hermione enters first, Draco sliding it open for her. It’s the other Alpha boy from Madam Malkin’s. Hermione puts her trunk and Err’sh cage on the luggage rack, and sits opposite of the wizard, taking out her _Hogwarts, a History_. His emerald-green eyes narrow on Draco, who sets his owl cage down next to hers.

Glancing up, she can see the hostility pouring off the two Alpha’s. Setting down her book, Hermione looks the other Alpha up and down. He’s lean, shoulder length black hair sticking out in odd angles. His spectacles make his features more pronounced, and he smells like comforting old wood.

The Snowy Owl in the cage next to him turns her head towards Hermione, hooting a soft hello.

“Potter,” Draco spits.

“Malfoy,” Potter growls.

“Mendonica,” Hermione drawls, drawing both the Alpha’s attention. Potter glares at Hermione, who raises an eyebrow at him.

“Alpha Hermione Mendonica, and you are?” After a beat, she holds out her hand, not really wanting to touch him but British custom demands she do so. Potter eyes it, but takes her hand, shaking it.

“Alpha Harry Potter—”

“_Halfblood_ Potter, isn’t your mother a _Muggleborn?_” Draco cuts in, sneering. Harry glares at Draco. Hermione also gives him a side glance, one that Harry notices.

“What are you doing here Malfoy? The Slytherin compartments are at the back of the train,” Harry snaps.

“This is the back of the train, Gryffindor _scum,_” Draco sneers.

“Excuse me,” The Alpha’s turn to look at her.

“Explain how you two know each other?” Hermione orders, her tone authoritative. They glare at each other.

“The Potters have always been . . . Muggle lovers,” Draco grimaces as Harry’s face tightens in anger.

“The Malfoys,” Harry snaps.

“Have always been Pureblood suprematists and Death Eaters—”

“YOU TAKE THAT BACK!” Draco roars, his wand pointing between Harry’s eyes.

“MAKE ME!” Harry yells back, his wand aiming at Draco’s heart.

“Sit _down_,” she hisses, lashing a ripple of her magic at them. Both Alpha’s fall on their bums, their knees giving out. Err’sh clacks his beak in laughter. She holds her hand out, and the Alpha’s wands fly into her waiting palm. Raising her hand, Err’sh takes the wands in his beak, staring at her.

Hermione sighs, glaring at the Alpha’s stunned faces.

“I know that I’m not privy to a lifelong blood feud between your families, but in a regular conversation in a compartment, you talk _civilly_,” Hermione drawls, and they both lower their heads in submission.

“That was wandless magic!” Harry points out unnecessarily. Hermione restrains herself from rolling her eyes.

“Yes Harry. Now, do get your act together before we arrive. I for one don’t fancy dealing with your petty squabbles in Hogwarts,” she glares at them, and they eye the other Alpha.

“I’ll be keeping these until we arrive, since you two obviously can’t be trusted with them,” Hermione says, grabbing her trunk and Err’sh’s cage, and walks out of the compartment.

* * *

Hermione finds another compartment, this time there are only two girls in it. Ignoring their gazes, she sets her luggage on its rack, and sits down with her book open. Err’sh hops off her shoulders onto the seat, settling in for a nap. One of the witches clears her throat, and Hermione looks up.

“Hello, I’m Beta Daphne Greengrass,” the girl says. Her brilliant grass-green eyes stare at Hermione, her white-blond hair falling around her face softly. She smells like mint peppermint. The other girl smiles neutrally at her.

“Beta Tracey Nettlebed,” she says. Her fiery-red hair is something that grabs one’s attention, betraying her Irish decent. Her face is freckled, and bright sky-blue eyes seem to dance. It accents her olive skin, and her scent of fresh moss.

“Alpha Hermione Mendonica, and this is Err’sh,” she says, and both witches’ eyes widen.

“No way, you’re French?” Tracey asks, leaning in towards Hermione.

“Yes, I am,” she sighs, and the Beta merely grins.

“What House do you think you’re gonna be in?” She asks, and Daphne rolls her eyes.

“I don’t have a preference,” Hermione answers truthfully.

“Really? I’m going to be a Slytherin, my whole family has been,” Daphne sighs.

“Better a Slytherin than a stupid Gryffindor, or maybe a wimpy Hufflepuff—”

“My sister-in-law was a Hufflepuff,” Hermione cuts in sharply, and Tracey blanches, apologizing softly.

“You really have no preference?” Daphne asks, and Hermione shrugs.

“Well, if you’re a Slytherin like us, we can all become dark witches together,” Tracey jokes with a wry smile. Hermione frowns at that.

“Merlin was a Slytherin, and he’s not dark,” she says. Daphne nods slowly.

“Being Slytherin doesn’t mean dark,” Hermione continues.

“Yeah? And who else is a good Slytherin?” Tracey snorts.

“Beta Master Potioneer Andromeda Tonks,” Hermione begins.

“Beta Professor Septima Vector, Alpha DMLE Head Bellatrix Black, and Alpha Minister Tom Riddle,” her words leave the compartment in heavy silence.

“We are not defined by our Houses, it’s actually illogical to sort students at eleven, people change too much. Like Omega Peter Pettigrew,” Hermione watches both Beta's nod. It was a global Wizarding scandal; the Gryffindor who tried to kill his best friends for a Death Eater’s Mark. And sentenced for life in Azkaban for it.

Suddenly the compartment door slams open, a young wizard standing in the doorway, his face red. His light-blue eyes, solid build, and short, disheveled, red hair distinctively marks him as a Weasley. Tracey sneers at him, and Daphne adopts a cold look.

“What are you doing here, Weasley?” Tracey demands, and the wizard turns to glare at Hermione, faltering a bit when he sees her face.

“I’m Beta Ron Weasley, and I’m here to tell you to give me back Harry’s wand,” he says snootily. She raises an eyebrow at him. She doubts Harry would send a Beta to do his grunt work.

“Well then Harry will have to come get it back himself,” she says smoothly, and the door slides shut on Ron’s fingers.

* * *

≠ “We will be in Hogwarts in five minutes time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately,” ≠ a female voice says from the train. Leaving the compartment so that Daphne and Tracey can change, she sees an Albino Mouse, with clean fur and a collar. Crouching, she deftly swipes it up, holding the mouse close to her.

It squeaks softly, nuzzling into her hands. She coos gently to it, it’s red eyes closing as it pushes itself against her, it’s pink tail wrapping around her fingers. Placing the mouse on her shoulder, it rubs up against her neck, chittering. Going back into the compartment, Err’sh’s gaze locks on the mouse. Hermione taps his beak, and he huffs, dropping the boys’ wands in her hand.

*I want to find us a good roosting site,* he whistles, and Hermione nods. Unlocking the window, with Err’sh on her arm, she jerks her hand up to give Err’sh some lift as he takes off into the night sky. Daphne and Tracey keep silent throughout it all. As the three of them get off the train, Hermione lets the clear night air settle herself, and stows the wands in one of her robes’ pocket.

Looking up, she notices that the stars and constellations are different here. The mouse squeaks softly to her, and burrows a little under her shirt collar to keep warm.

≠ “Firs’ years! Firs’ years over here!” ≠ A giant of a man towers over the students, waving an umbrella.

“That’s Beta Hagrid, he’s the Keeper of Keys, and Game Keeper of Hogwarts,” Tracey whispers to Hermione, sneering. Draco brushes past them, hearing Tracey and snorts, turning his nose up at the sight of the giant man. When they near the man, Hermione takes a small sniff, immediately slapping her hand over her nose.

He’s a Half-Giant, a stinky one at that. Hermione looks around to see if anyone else reacts, but it’s only her. The crowd of First years follow Hagrid down a narrow path, to a hidden shore of a huge expanse of lake. Standing with all of the other First years, Hermione’s the tallest one there, the second tallest barely reaching her shoulder.

Hagrid calls out more orders. Hermione, Daphne, Tracey, and another Beta girl climb into one boat. It launches off, giving them a stellar view of Hogwarts atop the steep drop of a cliffside plateau at night. Hermione’s impressed despite herself. At the Boathouse, they get off, walking up the long winding stairs hewn from the very rock itself to the Courtyard.

Then Hagrid pounds on the front doors.

* * *

Following Professor McGonagall, Hermione remembers her acceptance letter. Now waiting in an antechamber off from the main entrance hall, Hermione listens to the Professor speak. In the front row, Hermione can smell the Professor’s Beta scent, but there’s a different tone to it, as if she’s been claimed.

She starts speaking in her stern voice, giving a run down of the Sorting, the Houses, and punishments. Hermione blinks, wondering if anyone else got the feeling of being nagged. She sees Draco mimes a yawn. She knows what the Sorting will entail, but listening to some of the other’s great concern, they have no idea how they will be Sorted.

Suddenly a few kids scream, Hermione seeing about twenty Ghosts appear through the wall, making a chill go throughher. Hermione feels Daphne’s hand on her arm, and Hermione realizes she’s shivering.

“I don’t quite like Ghosts either,” she murmurs. Professor McGonagall comes back, they entering the Great Hall in a line.

* * *

The ceiling is more beautiful than described in _Hogwarts, a History_, as Hermione and the other First years walk forwards. While most of them cower at the returning student’s looks, Hermione strides forward confidently, keeping her gaze straight. She hears most of the whispers are questions about her age.

Unlike the rest of her year mates, Hermione doesn’t have to crane her neck to see the Hat. When it bursts out in song, it has Hermione grinning slightly by the end. Daphne and Tracey are whispering next to her nervously, as Hermione watches the kids get sorted one-by-one.

“Mendonica, Hermione!” Hermione strides up to the stool, sitting, as the Hat is put over her head.

“Ah, wonderful! Absolutely delightful,” the Hat whispers in her ear.

“It’s been so long since I’ve Sorted a student who could blossom in all four Houses nowadays, now let’s see, a healthy dose of courage, a brilliant genius mind you have. Oh? What’s this? A hunger to prove yourself over others? The need to dominate others? Interesting. Lots of loyalty to spare, but only to those who you see as yours. Hmm, where shall I put you?” The Hat mumbles.

“How can you read my mind?” Hermione whispers.

“As I sang, I’m a magical artifact, I was imbued with this ability,” the Hat responds, cut off from it’s thinking.

“But how?”

“Well, the Founders combined their ancient magic to make me, it was a very curious time for me indeed.”

“How so?”

“Oh they told me the attributes for Sorting students in their Houses, which should go where, but I see that’s not what you mean,” the Hat pauses, then speaks again.

“I was a new artifact, and was a bit, over zealous in my Sortings. Why, I couldn’t even sing my songs I thought of!”

“They didn’t want you to sing?”

“Kind Omega Helga Hufflepuff wanted me too, but she was outvoted by the other three,” the Hat replies a bit sadly. Suddenly, all the students gasp, and the Professors at the High Table lean in.

“What just happened?”

“We passed the five minute mark, the longest Hat-Stall there’s been in the entire history of Sorting, why, it was Alpha Bellatrix Black herself who set the record for it! We had such a wonderful conversation I forgot myself—interestingly enough she was the only one who threatened to burn me if I didn’t put her in the House she wanted!”

Hermione chuckles at his antics.

“You’re too valuable to be burned, Hat,” Hermione says, and she feels it grow warm. Maybe that’s its way of blushing.

“You’re very considerate to talk to this old artifact, I do get lonely coming up with new songs,” it replies.

“I suppose it’s time for our conversation to end then,” Hermione smirks, and she feels the Hat shiver in laughter.

“Yes indeed! I stand by my first statement, you’d do well in any House, but I think I see now you’d do best in—SLYTHERIN!”

* * *

The Hat is whipped off her head, a huge standing applause from the table of green and silver. Walking over, Hermione takes the open space Daphne makes beside her. Tracey is the next to be Sorted, the Hat calling “SLYTHERIN” after a few seconds. She practically bounces her way to them, sitting on Hermione’s other side.

A few more names are called, until Blaise Zabini is the last to be Sorted. As he passes Hermione, she smells his alluring Omega scent. He sits down with Draco. Flanking the platinum-blond Alpha are two hulking mountain Beta’s; Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle.

Completing the gang, is another Alpha, Theodore Nott. Hermione looks away, only to realize there’s a whole group of girls who are sitting around her. Daphne seems to know most of them, introducing them. There’s Alpha Pansy Parkinson, the Alpha twins Flora and Hestia Carrow, Omega Tracey Davis. Beta Tracey introduces Beta Millicent Bulstrode.

Headmaster Dumbledore says a few words, Hermione gets what Annie and Claire were talking about. The ancient Alpha is senile. She perks up when French food appears in front of her. The mouse shifts under her shirt collar, its nose sniffing. The table looks towards the sound of Vincent choking on his juice, many sniggering.

Hermione sees there’s a nasty looking Ghost hovering behind Draco.

“You’re the Bloody Baron!” Blaise squeaks. The Ghost chuckles, his voice hoarse. The Ghost is a horrible looking man, gaunt, blank faced, his robes stained with silver blood. He hums to himself, flying through a wall.

— . —

_Gravitas Penna_ = Feather-light Charm


	2. It's Us Against Them . . . Or Is It?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I give you . . . Slytherin!

The normal chatter starts up again at the table, the girls mainly talking about their summers and boys.

“Hey Mendonica, why is Potter glaring at you?” Pansy asks, and the other girls cast subtle glances at the Gryffindor table. Hermione doesn’t look.

“I have something of his,” she says, taking a sip of her juice. The mouse finally decides its brave enough, and clamors back to her shoulder.

“You have a mouse for a Familiar?” Omega Tracey wrinkles her nose. Hermione feeds it a piece of her dinner, and it squeaks happily.

“No,” she says, and the food disappears. Dumbledore then leads the school to sing their absolutely _horrid_ song. Hermione has to slap her hands over her ears. The Prefects call for the First years, each table standing at the same time. Crossing through the sea of black cloaks, Hermione feels the curious and wary starts of the other students.

When she reaches in her pocket and pulls Harry’s wand out, she can feel the tension skyrocket. The other Gryffindors around him step close, hands ready over their own pockets, but they freeze when Hermione twirls the wand to offer it hilt first to a petulant Harry.

Hermione tosses it to him, the Alpha snatching it out of the air, holding it in a tight grip. He gives her a weak smile, and a tight nod towards Draco behind her.

“HEY! Give me back Scabbers!” Ron steps forwards, his hands fisted. Hermione tilts her head, and picks up the mouse. He squeaks happily, rubbing his head against her fingers. By now the whole Great Hall is silent, watching the scene play out intently.

“Scabbers!” Ron sounds aghast. Hermione wordlessly hands the Albino Mouse over to his rightful owner, the Beta holding onto the mouse tightly. When she turns, she hears Scabbers’ frightened squeaks, and Ron’s cursing. Smirking, she walks back to the other Slytherins, tossing Draco’s wand to him.

* * *

They descend into the dungeons, stopping by the portrait of titled _The Slytherin Witch_, she looking quite vexed.

“Password?” She sneers, and the Prefect says clearly, “Poison Ivy”. She swings open, revealing a spacious Common room, under the lake, where the decor is black, silver, and green themed, black leather and generally medieval night club like.

“All right! First years, choose your rooms then come down five minutes later!” The Prefect orders.

* * *

Hermione climbs up the stairs, opening the doors until she finds one with a fireplace. She claims the bed closest to it, her trunk and Err’sh’s cage appearing next to it. Daphne and Beta Tracey enter right behind her, quickly followed by Pansy and Millicent. Once they claim their beds, the five of them go back down. The Prefect glares at them, but then speaks.

“Right, we Slytherins aren’t popular with the rest of school. It’s a fact, get used to it. Only our House Head, Beta Professor Snape is going to be fair, expect to work harder for every grade you manage to get. Now the three House rules are simple. One: outside these walls, we’re a unified front, they don’t mess with one Snake, they deal with whole Pit.”

There are slow nods, and the Prefect continues.

“Two: only in _here_ will you fight out your differences, but for the love of Merlin, don’t let any of the other Houses figure it out. And Three: if you’re doing shit you shouldn’t, _don’t, get, caught._ Now off to bed.”

Hermione is the first to be ready for bed, Err’sh already making himself at home on her pillow. She strokes her Familiar’s head, watching the soft green flames of the fireplace, and basks in the darkness of the dungeons.

* * *

The next morning, Hermione and her dorm mates descend down to the Common Room, and out to the Great Hall. Err’sh, after informing Hermione that he detests the Owlry, takes off over the Dark Forest, promising to return. Hermione’s curious what a Wizarding school will be like.

She scans her eyes over the other tables, she recognizing a familiar pinkhaired Beta. Tonks seems to feel her eyes, and she turns, her eyes widening when their gazes connect. Ducking down again, she strides out of the Great Hall. Hermione knows she’s a Seventh year, remembering from their conversations.

However a greasy, black haired man diverts her attention. His black robes billow in an unseen wind, his wand flicking their time-table at them to catch. Astronomy, Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Herbology, History of Magic, Potions, Transfiguration, and Flying. As Hermione goes throughout her first classes, she notices that the Hogwarts castle is like the Mendonica Palace; holding a magical sentience.

Another pattern she notices, is that Slytherins are constantly paired up with the Gryffindors, meaning, she sees a lot of Harry and Ron. Astronomy; taught by the renowned Alpha Professor Sinistra; is every Wednesday at midnight, considering they are learning to find constellations. They have Herbology three times a week at the Greenhouses.

Hermione rather likes Alpha Professor Sprout, the Head of Hufflepuff is a right terror when a student fools around in her Greenhouses. The most disappointing class is History of Magic. Beta Professor Binns is a Ghost, his droning drives Hermione mad. Instead, she reads actual history books from the Library, ignoring him, while most use that class to sleep.

Charms class with Beta Professor Flitwick, a Half-Goblin and Head of Ravenclaw, who brings a smirk to her face. Transfiguration, however, is another matter, one look at Professor McGonagall’s face, and Hermione knows she’s not to cross. The Head of Gryffindor is a stern one at that. Walking into class, Hermione sees the tabbycat on the Professor’s desk.

Taking a slight sniff, she recognizes the Professor’s Beta scent. Sitting down on the Slytherin side of the room next to Daphne, she notes its signature markings like glasses around its eyes. When she transforms, Hermione is the only one not shocked. Professor McGonagall’s first task for them is to transfigure a match into a needle.

Hermione draws her wand, earning a sharp gasp from Daphne at the sight of it. Idly twirling her wand over her between her fingers, Hermione flicks her hand in the correct movement. The match transfigures into the needle on her first try. Satisfied, she raises her hand, Professor McGonagall coming over to her.

The Beta woman does a double take at Hermione’swand, glances at Hermione, then at the needle. The rest of the class has stopped their movements, watching intently. Professor McGonagall picks up her needle, inspecting it.

“Brilliant job, Miss Mendonica, five points to Slytherin,” Professor McGonagall says, depositing a box of matches onto Hermione’s desk. As she walks away, Daphne nudges her, her face surprised and inquisitive. Hermione smirks a little, and switches her wand to left hand to practice the spell again. She even lets Daphne try and copy her movements.

At the end of class, Hermione has a pile of needles on her desk. The bell rings, and all the matches and needles vanish.

“Dismissed!—Except you Miss Mendonica,” Hermione tilts her head, seeing her fellow Slytherin’s annoyed looks. When the last of them exit, Hermione walks up to the Professor’s desk, waiting for the Beta woman to speak.

“Miss Mendonica, are you aware that you were supposed to be say the incantation aloud?” Professor McGonagall asks, leaning against her desk. Hermione, standing straight, hands behind her back, answers.

“I was not. I suppose I’m just used to casting without words, Professor.”

Professor McGonagall purses her lips, her eyes nonjudgmental.

“Miss Mendonica, do you mind if I have a look at your magic?” She asks, and Hermione tenses.

“You may, Professor,” Hermione replies warily. The Beta waves her wand in a series of complicated looking flicks, a full body size form of Hermione appearing between them. It’s made of black smoke, with some trails of it coming off from Hermione herself. At her abdomen, heart, hands, head, and surprisingly her feet is the black smoke is the densest.

Professor McGonagall’s mouth drops.

“Professor, is there something wrong?” Hermione asks, the Beta shaking her head, dismissing the spell.

“No, on the contrary, quite the opposite. You, are perhaps more in tune with your magic than any student I have ever taught, though there was one who came close . . .” she trails off before resuming.

“To put it frankly, Miss Mendonica, your magic has been already trained to use your full magical channels, and forcing them to conduct through a wand would be an injustice. I shall speak with Headmaster Dumbledore to see if you may have a wand waver during classes, but you shall still carry it with you. Does that sound fair?”

Hermione smilies, and the Professor is hooked, smiling back at her student.

* * *

Defense Against the Dark Arts, or DADA, is a joke. Omega Professor Quirrell’s constant stuttering and failure to teach them _anything_ annoys Hermione more than Professor Binns’droning voice. And with his Omega status no one pays him any attention. Her next class is Potions with her House Head, Professor Snape.

Stalking through the doors, she claims a seat right in the middle of the Slytherin side of the dungeons. Soon, the rest of the students trickle in, including the Gryffindors. Professor Snape stalks in, his tone demanding, sharp, and right to the point. Hermione’s reminded of Juin in a way.

Hermione notices right away, that Professor Snape loathes all Gryffindors, especially Ron, who ends up bearing the brunt of the dark Beta’s curious anger. He’s definitely different from most Betas. Harry, it seems, only gets a lesser degree of his wrath. His black eyes sweep the class, picking on Ron, who fails to answer each question.

Surprisingly, he calls on Hermione to give the correct one. In all her classes, Hermione _watches_, especially now, as Professor Snape pairs the students up, Hermione ending up with Daphne. Setting her golden cauldron on the table, she sees Daphne’s eyes widen. They’re going to brew a potion to cure boils.

“You get the ingredients, I’ll prepare the cauldron,” she murmurs, Daphne scurrying away to obey. Throughout the whole class, the Gryffindors lose points one by one, most by Ron and his partner, the shy Omega Neville Longbottom. Professor Snape praises Hermione and Daphne’s work, the Beta sharing a smile with her.

Soon, they finish their potion, when Ron screws up again. His potion spills on the floor, and Hermione hear the sizzling before anyone else. Grabbing Daphne, the Beta squeaks as Hermione hoists her onto their stools. The rest of the students yell as their shoes and floor starts to burn holes.

Professor Snape is rightfully pissed, his yells escaping out into the hall as they flee the dungeon. The day’s classes have ended, and Hermione has a brief respite from classes, deciding to go on a stroll of the first floor. Daphne joins her, both of them enjoying the sounds of the castle. Turning a corner, they’re spotted by the Poltergeist, Peeves.

The Ghost crackles, ready to throw whatever he has in his hands. Hermione narrows her eyes, lashing her Thrall out at him. He jerks in midair, the dungbombs vanishing, and slams down in a kneeling position in front of her. She’s glad that Eto taught her how to control her Veela magic.

“Woah!” Daphne backs up a step instinctually. Hermione grips the Poltergeist’s face with her Thrall, jerking his head up and holding it there.

“Do you know who I am?” Hermione asks him gently, her words at odds to her Thrall slowly crushing his form. Her eyes swirl, her left turning into a goat’s, glowing green, and her right turning into a lion’s, glowing gold. The Poltergeist’s face instantly grows more opaque.

“N-n-n—”

“Shhh,” Hermione raises a finger to her lips, and he shuts up, just as his torso starts to cave in. He grimaces, and Hermione wonders what this might feel for him. He’s dead of course, so he won’t feel pain.

“There’s a simple order to this world, Peeves, do you know what that is?”

He shakes his head, his neck starting to elongate. Daphne makes a wrenching noise.

“The powerful lead, and weak follow,” Hermione pauses for effect.

“Do I have to tell you which one you are?” She whispers, her eyes glowing brighter. Peeves starts to shake his head, but then answers.

“N-no m-my Lady! Peevies here knows he’ll follow you!” He squeaks, and Hermione smiles.

“You’re a long way from being an obedient little Ghost, but this is a good start,” she muses, and releases him. His body pops back to his normal shape, and he spirals away through a wall. Hermione closes her eyes, and they return to normal. She glances over at Daphne, checking her over quickly. The Beta takes in a shuddering breath, and faces Hermione head on.

“Do you think he’ll actually do it?” She asks, and Hermione hums. She starts walking to the grounds where the flight lessons will take place.

“Maybe, in time,” she replies.

* * *

Yet again, the school pits the Slytherins and Gryffindors together for flying classes. She rolls her eyes as Alpha Madam Hooch comes, barking the rules to them. Her short, grey hair and yellow eyes like a hawks gives her a sharp, perpetual bird-like expression. The Alpha is defiantly passionate about her job.

Holding out her hand confidently, she silently wills the broom to go _UP_. The broom shoots up to her hand, she one of the few. Only Draco’s, Harry’s, Neville’s and surprisingly Daphne’s brooms rise. Madam Hooch shows them how to get on, apparently Draco has been getting on the wrong way for a long time.

Her correcting sends snickers rippling through the Gryffindors. Mounting her broom, Hermione sees Ron get on his, it suddenly shooting up. Hermione trails him with her eyes, and she hears Draco scoff next to her. She wonders if the Beta boy is cursed to cause chaos with whatever he touches. Compared to Ron, if Neville is a duckling on the ground, he’s a swan in the air.

He rises off the ground with a natural ease, but Ron comes straight down, his broom clipping Neville’s. The Omega yelps, falling the meter down to the ground. Landing on his arm first. All the Alphas wince at the crack of bones, their still maturing instincts telling them to help an injured Omega.

Madam Hooch frets over Neville, ordering everyone to stay grounded while she takes him to the Hospital Wing. Rolling her eyes at the stupid order, Hermione stands with the other Slytherin girls, broom leaning against her shoulder. Suddenly Millicent gasps, pointing. They turn, seeing Draco and Harry facing off, a glass orb in Draco’s hand.

Their shouts rang out across the courtyard, and Draco kicks off the ground, rising on his broom. Harry is quick to follow him.

“Boys,” Hermione scoffs. Draco and Harry circle each other, before the former launches the orb through the air. Harry dashes after it, his arm stretched out. Hermione grips her broom tighter, watching with narrow eyes as Harry dives. Draco lands with a smirk on his face.

Just as Harry catches it, he flashes a smug smirk over his shoulder. Therefore unable to see the window in front of him. Hermione’s Thrall and hand rise before he can hit the pane. She takes a breath, sweat starting to form along her neck. Using her magic to hold a living person in the air is harder than she estimated.

Beta Tracey shoots her an amazed look. Hermione lowers her hand down, and Harry descends until he’s on his feet. He looks around curiously, staring at her with confusion. The cheers from Gryffindor rise. Hermione drops her hand, suddenly dizzy. Daphne and Beta Tracey are by her sides, letting her lean some of her weight on them. Draco stares at her, than at Harry.

≠ “HARRY POTTER!” ≠ All heads turn to see Professor McGonagall running towards them, her face pinched. Harry’s face pales as half formed sentences of anger spit from the woman’s mouth.

“Miss Mendonica!” Hermione looks up at her name.

“You two follow me,” The Professor orders, and Hermione quiets the excuses bubbling up in the rest of the girls. Lifting her head high, she walks after the Professor, glancing down at Harry’s downcast expression. They walk to the Charms classroom, and that’s when the most interesting thing happens.

Harry Potter becomes the youngest Gryffindor Seeker in Hogwarts history, making the Alpha Oliver Wood’s day. Harry looks relieved and excited, and Hermione more curious about her presence with Professor McGonagall. She lets Harry go back to Gryffindor Tower, and takes Hermione down to the Dungeons.

They walk through a set of halls, stopping at a simple door. Knocking on it, Hermione realizes this is Professor Snape’s office. Then Professor McGonagall explains her plan; for Hermione to be the Quidditch Announcer, and also in a secure position to act as a failsafe for a falling player. Professor Snape scowls at her, his eyes flicking over to Hermione.

The only catch is that Professor McGonagall wants her to play once. So for the first game of Quidditch, Hermione will stand in for another player.

* * *

Hermione unfortunately stumbles upon the portrait of Omega Elizabeth Burke, a nasty looking female woman trying to preach how “Mudbloods are the filth of the world” when she arrives back to the Slytherin Common Room. As soon as she steps in, she’s bombarded by questions she doesn’t bother answering. When she gives them a few glares, they back away from her, unwilling to risk her anger.

Daphne gives her a once calm over before nodding to herself. During breakfast, she sees Draco taunt Harry, and then she hears him challenge Harry to a Wizard’s Duel.

“Ooh this is exciting,” Beta Tracey murmurs, craning her neck to see. Hermione’s already noticed she’s always trying to collect as much gossip as she can. Hermione opens her mouth to speak, but then she sees Tonks’ signature hair. She stands, going after the Beta whose been avoiding her. Catching up to Tonks in the hallway easily, she taps the Tonks’ arm.

“Tonks,” Hermione says, and Tonks squeaks, whirling around.

“W-wotcher Hermione,” Tonks says nervously, not meeting Hermione’s eyes.

“Is there a reason why you’re not looking at me?” Hermione asks, tilting her head up to look at Tonks. The Beta shifts her feet.

“Er—your Mum threatened to watch my disembowelment if I made it obvious we know each other!” Tonks blurts, her bubblegum pink hair turning yellow. Hermione raises an eyebrow.

“Pardon?” Tonks rubs her neck.

“Y-yeah, she also showed me your, um, your W-Well,” Tonks gulps. Oh, that makes sense. Even though she’s passed the Vulcan Wing many times, the Well scares her too. Although Hermione’s not sure if she should like Eto’s dramatic lengths to make sure she stays protected. But she’s comforted that Eto would even think to do that.

“You could say we met here,” Hermione says, and Tonks blinks.

“Oh,” Hermione smiles at her, satisfied that the only other Metamorphmagus she knows is on speaking terms with her again. As they bid farewell, the images of Tonks avoiding her again creep up in her mind. A growl rumbles in her chest at the thought Tonks finding another Metamorphmagus to be friends with.

Tonks is _her_ friend.

* * *

The night of her twelfth birthday, Hermione wakes up to Err’sh landing on her chest. She grunts, sitting up slowly.

“**What is it?**” Hermione mumbles in French, rubbing her eyes. Everyone else is asleep, and Hermione checks the time magically: eleven-fifty.

*There’s someone I want you to meet, she’s really nice, and she doesn’t like meeting during the day,* Err’sh whistles softly.

*Who is it?* Hermione tweets as she gets out of bed. Err’sh fluffs his feathers, watching her put on a training bra, then pulling her sleeping shirt over herself.

*She’s a cat,* Hermione pauses at that, then shrugs.

*Does she want to meet you alone or with me?* He flutters his wings.

*Well, alone, but she’s always with her Familiar, and so I figured if I brought mine, it would be less awkward,* Err’sh croons, and Hermione understands the logic.

*Alright, lead the way.*

— . —

_Removes boils_ = Cure for Boils Potion


	3. How To Be A Proper Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione meets her year mates!

Hermione morphs into her Ancient Chimoretis soul form once she’s out of the Dungeons, using her heightened senses to detect Prefects patrolling. And also so she can relax from not being in her soul form for so long. Fortunately, all the portraits are sleeping, so no one ever sees Hermione prowling through the corridors.

Corridors that are a little too comfortably for her new body. Err’sh leads her on silent wings through the castle, towards a new room she’s never been to. Upon hearing footsteps, she stops, all her heads sniffing the air. Her dragon head; the closest one to the approaching people, also scents three more hiding in the room full of trophies.

Harry, Ron, and Neville. She hears the voice of a bitter old man, then a sharp meow. She was warned against him—the Delta Argus Filch and Mrs. Norris. Her front three heads’ eyes widen when she sees Err’sh circle around Argus’ head, and Mrs. Norris looks up. The angry expression on the old man’s face smooths out into a happy grin, transforming his entire face into a grandfatherly one.

Mrs. Norris calls out to Err’sh, whistling happily when the Lammergeier lands in front of her. They bump heads, Mrs. Norris’ purrs growing louder as she pushes herself up against Err’sh’s chest feathers. Err’sh turns to look at Hermione, croaking softly. Argus looks up, a wary expression slipping onto his face. Hermione morphs back, taking one steadying breath, and walks forwards out of the darkness.

Argus straightens when he sees her, a snarl on his lips. But it dies when he sees Mrs. Norris trot up to Hermione, still purring and begging to be picked up. Hermione’s heart softens at the sight of the most hated animal in the castle.

“Hey there sweet lady,” Hermione coos, holding the purring cat. She looks up to see Argus’ stunned face. Err’sh flaps up to Argus’ shoulder, the Delta not surprised at it at all. Which means Err’sh has been meeting up with the pair for a while now.

“Hello,” she greets him, and he grunts back.

“This your bird?” He grouches, jerking his thumb unnecessarily at Err’sh. Hermione walks towards him.

“His name is Err’sh.”

“What kind of name is that?”

“He named himself,” Hermione replies, her eyes sliding towards the trophy room. She can smell the fear scents of the three boys, and that means Mrs. Norris can as well.

“You’re a student out of bed during curfew,” Argus growls, taking a step towards her, but Mrs. Norris starts to meow loudly. It startles Argus, who stares at his Familiar in shock.

“What did you do to her?” He snaps.

“Nothing. Err’sh fancies your Mrs. Norris, isn’t that so sweet?” Hermione sighs. Argus casts a worried look at Mrs. Norris.

“Alright, I won’t turn you in—but only if you have your bird with you!” He points threateningly, but Hermione just smiles at him.

“Deal,” she lets Mrs. Norris down. Err’sh glides to the cat’s back, and he and Mrs. Norris walk away down the hall, leaving a stunned Argus and an amused Hermione.

* * *

It’s two in the morning before Err’sh and Mrs. Norris come back, and when Argus releases her from his watch. Not trusting her to cause mayhem in his absence, he made her accompany him on his nightly patrols. He unfortunately didn’t take her through any secret passages. Hermione yawns when she sits down for breakfast, heavy bags under her eyes.

“Where did you go last night?” Pansy hisses across the table, the other girls pause to listen. Hermione yawns again. The other Alpha’s tone is cutting, but Hermione doesn’t really care.

“Exploring the castle,” she mumbles, leaning against Daphne’s shoulder. Pansy narrows her eyes, about to say more, when a triumphant, shrill scream-whistle cuts through the noise. It startles everyone except Hermione. A few of the older students have their wands out, as everyone’s head turns to the giant Lammergeier.

Whispers ripple out as Err’sh effortless circles towards the Slytherin table, landing in front of Hermione. The girls near her shy away from the massive vulture, all except Daphne and Beta Tracey. Hermione makes a welcoming crooning noise, and he mimics it, preening her hair. She’s glad at least one of them had a productive night.

His cargo is a large, long cardboard, dented a bit where powerful talons clenched the wood. Hermione takes the letter from his beak, opening as Err’sh stands still over the box, protecting it as he eyes an empty platter.

A pile of medium size bones appears on it. Err’sh whistles sharply at a Third year who reaches over it.

≠ DO NOT OPEN THE BOX AT THE TABLE.

This box contains a _Nimbus 2000_ but we ≠ (Professor Snape, the Headmaster, and I) don’t want everybody knowing you’ve acquired a new broom. Alpha Marcus Flint, a fifth year, who is the current Captain of the Slytherin ≠ Quidditch team, will meet you at the Quidditch field at seven o’clock for your first training session, ≠ though I expect you will excel as you have in all your classes.

_Professor M. McGonagall_

_Professor S. Snape_

_Headmaster A. Dumbledore_

Hermione quickly folds the letter, Err’sh raising his head from his third platter of raw bones he had been gorging on. Flaring his wings, Err’sh flaps, lifting the box, taking it to her dorm.

“What bloody hell was that thing?!” Pansy exclaims.

* * *

In the privacy of her dorm, Hermione wards the door from anyone entering. Opening the box, she takes the broom in her hands, feeling the burgundy wood, slick and smooth under her touch. Stroking the length of the wood, Hermione makes a mental note to vulture Eto all about her first week at Hogwarts.

All too soon, it’s seven, and Hermione is down in the field, staring up at the stadium. Marcus Flint is already there, his smile is toothy. Before she can even speak, he’s smacking his leg and laughing.

“Merlin’s balls Mendonica! I’ll be willing to wager my head that you’re the first Slytherin to ever get McGonagall herself to give a broom too!” He laughs gleefully, and Hermione furrows her eyebrows at him. He’s an odd Alpha. She brought her broom with her, under the _Disillusion Charm_. Marcus opens a shuddering box, revealing all the balls of Quidditch.

“Heard round the vine that one of ya in-law’s was a professional player. Too bad she’s an Omega,” Marcus says, and Hermione sneers. Elise’s presentation shouldn’t matter in a simple thing as a _game_.

“The other teams won’t know what hit ’em, what’d she teach you?” He takes out the Quaffle, tossing it to her, which she catches easily.

"The basics,” she lies. Marcus tests Hermione for each role, and at the end of it Marcus remarks that she’d make an agressive Beater, a savvy Chaser, a tricky Keeper, but once he lets out the Golden Snitch, her place is set. Watching her on her new broom search and then catch it five times in a row, even in the dark, he calls her down.

“You know, it’s a shame you can’t stay on the team,” he crosses his arms, his eyes showing his thoughts.

“I’ll settle for reserve Seeker,” Hermione says, and Marcus pumps his fist in the air.

“Yes! Welcome to the Slytherin team, my new Seeker!” He crows.

* * *

After two weeks, Hermione finds a rhythm to her days at Hogwarts. During the day, she goes through her classes with Daphne, Beta Tracey for company. Draco occasionally when he’s not trying to wheedle Harry. During the night, that’s when she, Err’sh, and Hogwarts itself share their silent vigil under the moon. She’s found that if she asks with her magic, Hogwarts will sometimes provide.

Recently, there have been rumors flying about how the usually surefooted Beta Ravenclaw Chaser tumbled off a moving staircase and fell three floors, breaking one leg, and three ribs. Many point to the Slytherins, but most brush it off as bad luck. It isn’t really high level gossip.

On the Sunday before the third week, Harry manages to work up the nerve to approach Hermione in the library.

“Hey, Mendonica?” She looks up as Harry stands awkwardly close but not that close to her chair. Ron hangs back a bit behind Harry, looking very cross, while Neville stands next to the Alpha, his hands in his pockets.

“Yes?” She sets down her quill.

“Er, thank you for not, you know,” he trails off.

“Outing you to Argus?” She fills in, and he nods, relieved. Hermione shrugs.

“You would of done the same,” she says, her eyes sliding to Neville and then Ron.

“Uh, what are you doing?” He sounds like an Omega instead of an Alpha. No, she shouldn’t stereotype. Neville is a very competent Omega, even if he’s a little shy.

“Finishing my potions essay.”

“Really? But Snape assigned that today!” Ron blurts. They hear a hiss from Alpha Madam Pince, the Librarian. The boys hunker down.

“So . . . You’re really brilliant, yeah?” Neville hedges.

“I try to be,” Hermione replies, and Harry looks over at Ron, jerking his head towards her. Ron stuffs his hands in his pockets, slinking over.

“Er—I’m sorry for being a git—on the train,” Ron mumbles. Harry nudges him.

“And since then!” The Beta takes a breath, and looks her in the eyes.

“Harry, Nev, and I—er, we need help on the _Levitation Spell,_” Ron finishes, blushing in embarrassment. Harry nods, looking pleased with his Beta. Neville pats Ron’s shoulders.

“I see,” Hermione puts away her essay, and takes out her wand from her sleeve. The boys’ eyes widen when they see it.

“Bloody hell, that’s wicked,” Ron breathes. Hermione smirks.

“You’re probably saying the incantation wrong, you have to stretch out the ‘_gar_’ in _Wingardium_ and the ‘_o_’ in _Leviosa_,” Hermione starts, showing the correct swish-and-flick wand motion. Fifteen minutes later, Ron manages to levitate a textbook a few centimeters off the table.

“I did it!” Ron whispers happily, Hermione feeling pride rise in her chest.

“I bet you can’t wait to show off to Lavender,” Neville says teasingly. Ron’s cheeks flush, and he looks away.

“Shut up.”

“It’s true, that Omega has the hots for you,” Harry laughs.

“Well you wouldn’t be talking if it was about Parvati,” Ron snaps, and this time Harry grows red.

“She’s a Beta, and Padma; her twin; is a Ravenclaw, and an Alpha,” Neville says to Hermione. A flash of red catches her eye, and she sees a set of redheads come sauntering up to the trio. It’s the Alpha Weasley twins, the worst Gryffindors for any Slytherin to watch out for.

“Well Ronniekins, who do we have here?—”

“—two Gryffindor Lords and—”

“—a beautiful Slytherin Lady?” The twins alternate their speech. Ron frowns, his cheeks turning red with annoyance. Harry brushes his bangs in front of his face, his eyes narrowed. Neville looks away at the attention. Hermione raises an eyebrow.

“In such case, you should greet your Lady with the respect my House is due,” she retorts coldly, tilting her chin up at the Third years. Only the twins see her eyes flash purple. Their blue eyes glint, making Hermione wary. Harry, Ron, and Neville are staring at her.

“Ah, forgive us—” They halt where they are at the end of the table, drop to their knees, and bend low at the waist. Ron’s jaw drops.

“—the Ancient and Lessor House of Weasley plead the Lady of the Most Prestigious and Most Royal House of Mendonica for her forgiveness for the insult of our actions have brought to her House’s honor,” they chant in unison. Hermione’s surprised at the formal apology, but she’s pleased.

They understand what it means to belong to a Great House, even if their’s have fallen from grace.

“I accept,” she says, and they slowly rise to their feet, smiling mischievously.

“What the bloody hell was that?” Ron splutters, his eyes rocketing back from his brothers to Hermione. Neville snorts, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Unbelievable,” the Omega chuckles.

* * *

Marcus insists that the Quidditch team wake up before the dawn. She’s only practiced with the rest of the team twice, and it goes as well as an only girl in a team full of boys. Half of the team can’t stop showing off for her, and the other half keep trying to suck up to her. They were less than pleased when Marcus told them she was only a Reserve Seeker.

There’s another change in her life; her after school hours are now filled with time spent with Harry, Ron, and Neville. There’s something different when she’s with them, so Hermione is going to keep their company to discover what it is. Harry has an Invisibility Cloak which they use to creep around after curfew. Not that she needs it, but she goes along with it.

Hermione’s never smelt one before, and she finds it odd that it smells of powerful magic, something akin to the Sorting Hat. And that she can’t smell anyone under it. Harry likes going out at night to state his thirst of nightly adventure. He’s only recently started doing it, which explains why she’s never heard him before. Yet their nightly escapades are not without dangers.

Peeves—not so much to Hermione—Prefects, Argus and Mrs. Norris—not much danger either—and the natural hazards of Hogwarts itself. It’s in the darkness of the halls, do their conversations bloom. Harry wants to be an older brother, Ron wants to be an only child; having five older brothers and one younger sister; and Neville wants his parents to actually parent him.

Hermione herself divulges having two older sisters who are both married. With each passing day, Hermione feels connected to these three, in a way she never thought she would. It’s different from the loyalty and gang-like comradery in the Slytherin House, but more . . . Intimate. Bonds such as these are best made during shared fear.

* * *

“The day after tomorrow is your first Quidditch match, how are you feeling?” Daphne whispers in her ear, setting down her fork on her cleaned off breakfast plate. She only told Daphne about her situation when the all-hours penetrating stares got too annoying. Honestly, Hermione forgot that her practices meant she did have to play against the other houses

“Their spokesperson is going to be very biased towards Gryffindor, so don’t be surprised when he starts spouting the usual nonsense,” Daphne continues, and Beta Tracey hears.

“Who? Oh, you mean Lee Jordan? I heard that the Alpha is such a biased announcer that half the time McGonagall is shushing him,” she says, scowling.

“Wouldn’t it be awesome if we could be on the team?” Omega Tracey sighs.

“First years can’t for a reason,” Flora says.

“Something about it being too dangerous for eleven year olds,” Hestia adds.

“Well not all of us are eleven . . .” Pansy trails off, glancing at Hermione. She’s probing, but Hermione owes the Alpha nothing. Pansy has always slipped in a barb whenever she can towards Hermione, for which Hermione surmises that the Alpha is jealous that she “stole” Beta Tracey from Pansy.

She’s not the only one who’s getting slightly jealous. Daphne, Beta Tracey, and Draco have grumbled about Hermione’s newfound; and to their knowledge; overnight popularity with the other Houses. She suspects that it has to do with her three Gryffindors, and possibly the Weasley twins. Or just the fact that she doesn’t really care what House students are in. Only if they’re brave enough to speak to her.

The day passes too quickly for Hermione’s liking: completing her homework, then joining Harry, Ron, and Neville for another midnight outing. They do encounter Argus and Mrs. Norris this time, but Hermione is prepared. Slipping out from the Invisibilty Cloak is easy; there’s not enough space for four. Her magic connecting with Mrs. Norris’.

··Hello Mmmrrrs. Norrrrris,·· The cat is so shocked she stumbles backwards, ears pricked.

··You speak Purrrimmmows?! But you’rrre Errrrr’sh’s Fammmiliarrr!·· Hermione winks, putting a finger to her lips.

··I’mmm just passing thrrrough,·· Hermione meows, and Mrs. Norris sits, blinking up at her.

··Mmmy Fammmiliarrr is down that hall cleaning, you should go that way to avoid himmm,·· Mrs. Norris purrs, walking up rub herself against Hermione’s hand before sauntering away. They go the way Mrs. Norris suggested,

“Blimey Hermione, you actually touched it—” Ron exclaims in disgust, only to have Neville cover his mouth.

* * *

The next morning, try as she might, Hermione is . . . Anxious. Not that she lets anyone see of course, but nevertheless, her blood is pumping. It might be Beta intuition, but Daphne, and Beta Tracey sit literally glued to her sides. Tonight’s Hallow’s Eve, a perfect time for strange magic to twist their world, and where the Ghosts became more powerful. The day passes as normal as one does at Hogwarts, and Draco keeps glancing over at her.

“You’ve been tense the whole day,” He comments when they arrive at the Great Hall for the Halloween feast. The other girls around her quiet down, listening.

“Something’s off,” Hermione mutters, the night giving her a chill. No sooner have they all sat down when Professor Quirrell bursts through the double doors.

“Werewolf! ≠ In the dungeons—thought you ought to know!” ≠ He yells, before dropping like a fly. There’s silence, and then the Great Hall erupts in screams and yells, and Dumbledore manages to regain order. As the Prefects start herding students back to the dorms on his orders, Hermione stands her ground.

“Slytherin and Hufflepuff dorms are in the Dungeons!” She calls out in a loud voice, and everyone stills. The two Houses named have panic on their faces. But Hermione stares at Dumbledore, his madly twinkling blue eyes. There’s a lengthy pause, as if the ancient Alpha was shocked at the gall of her. She inwardly snarls. Perhaps he thought none would challenge him in his domain.

Wrong.

Dumbledore turns to them gravely, as if he just hadn’t spared a thought for them. Daphne clutches her sleeve a knuckle white grip.

“Slytherin and Hufflepuff Houses will stay in the Great Hall until the threat has been absolved!” Professor McGonagall orders, and there are sighs of relief. Her Gryffindor companions shoot her concerned looks as they, their House, and Ravenclaw clears out. Slytherin and Hufflepuff then claim opposite sides of the Hall. Meanwhile, Hermione can feel Dumbledore’s heavy eyes on her as he leaves to deal with the Werewolf.

No one comments on how Professor McGonagall took charge while Dumbledore stood silent. Waiting for his looney command to be obeyed.

“I can’t believe he would of sent us down there!” Millicent hisses, a frown on her face.

“He’s Dumbledore, of course he’d want his precious lions out of harms way,” Theodore snorts.

“But he left Hufflepuff to fend for themselves,” Pansy snickers, but Beta Tracey elbows her.

“Hermione’s sister-in-law was a Hufflepuff,” she mutters, and Pansy’s eyebrows raise at that. She opens her mouth, but Hermione casts her a dark look, and the Alpha shuts her jaw with a click. A pair of Hufflepuffs pass their group—Alpha Susan Bones and Omega Hannah Abbott—speaking in hushed, worried whispers.

Hermione only hears it with her enhanced Veela hearing.

“ . . . he went? He wasn’t at the feast!” Hannah clutches her hands. Susan wraps an arm around the Omega.

“Malfoy made him cry again. Who knows where our fellow Puff is . . .” Susan answers, and Hermione tunes out.

“—what do you think Hermione?” Beta Tracey asks, and their heads turn to her. Something’s tugging at her, and Hermione knows to follow it.

“Cover for me,” She orders, and deftly uses her Thrall to summon Peeves. He comes flying in with water balloons, cracking and lobbing them at the unsuspecting students. Screams start up again, and chaos reigns. In the distraction, Hermione slips through the doors before anyone can see her.

* * *

Hermione stalks down the corridors, senses pricked. She doesn’t know what urged her to find this Hufflepuff boy, but her instincts have never led her wrong before. Smelling someone approaching, she morphs into a cat, darting behind a suit of armor. She watches with narrowed eyes as Professor Snape prowl down the path she was just on, turning right.

— . —

_Calamaitatis_= Disillusion Charm (Latin: Disillusion)

_Wingardium Leviosa_ = Levitation Spell


	4. Danger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Werewolves, Ghosts, Snakes, oh my!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter does contain mild gore and slight torture, so ya'll are forewarned.
> 
> Also, the Abdominal Thrust is the new name for the Heimlich Maneuver, since Red Cross finally acknowledged the family didn’t want their name in the Maneuver

Hermione sniffs the air, catching the scent of a wet, wild dog. She hunts the Werewolf through the halls, pausing when the scent grows stronger. Peering around a corner, she sees it; tall, huge and ugly. Dark fur is ripped in patches, gangly limbs dragging slightly as it lurches forwards as if pained. Drool drips from it’s open maw, and it’s large bulbous eyes stare at nothing.

It pauses to sniff the air heavily, swinging its head towards a bathroom in front of it. Hermione’s lucky that she’s downwind of it. It rumbles, and limps into the bathroom. She narrows her eyes, glancing at the lack of portraits here, and morphs into her Ancient Chimoretis soul form.

The Hogwarts halls seem to expand to accommodate her soul form, and she silently hunkers forwards, her skin itching for a fight. A high pitched whimper cuts through her precision. The Hufflepuff boy. Hermione surges forwards, the bathroom’s stone doorframe swelling to grant her large form entrance.

The boy is screaming now, and the Werewolf spins faster than she predicted. It doesn’t roar, but launches itself on powerful hindlegs at her. Rearing up, she meeting it halfway, batting it out of the air. It slams against the row of toilet cubicles with a roar. The boy is still screaming, cowering under the sinks.

The Werewolf recovers quickly, climbing out the dent in the wall. This time it does howl, and Hermione resists the urge to answer the challenge. With all the noise they’re making, she has limited time. She lunges towards it, her dragon head and goat head catching it by the arms. It howls with fury, and her lion head latches onto its muzzle.

All three heads start to pull. The Werewolf’s screams of pain are muffled, rising in pitch when she plants her forepaws on its torso. Its hindlegs scratch fruitlessly against the scales protecting her stomach. It writhes as its body is twisted, and she pulls harder, she feels her belly fill with something hot.

Her goat head shudders, then spits out a jet of thick, black gas. The Werewolf jerks back, its screams rising an octave as its arm and shoulder is covered in the gas. The gas that hangs in the air. Hermione can’t help but watch it shudder, morbidly fascinated. A growl rumbles from her lion head, and she takes a step forwards.

She snarls around the Werewolf’s muzzle, the rumbling growing in her throat. The Werewolf keens as her lion head’s molten hot breath burns it’s flesh. Her snake head—which had been the lookout—flicks its tongue, sensing the end of her prey. She unhinges her jaw. The warmth in her stomach zips up to her snake head, and she jerks her snake head forwards over her front three heads.

There’s a loud scream behind her.

Lightning spits from a fangs, lashed by the forked tongue. The wake of such energy numbs her snake head’s mouth, but ignores it. The supercharged lightning strikes the gas and the hot air. The gas twists in the lightning’s wake, field by the hot air, blooming with orange and red, expanding outwards. Blinding.

_BOOM!_

* * *

First the ringing in her ears greets her when Hermione blinks back the after flash. Second, her mouths are coated in delectable flavor of salty iron. It makes her . . . _Hunger_. Her entire front half of her body is drenched in a sticky substance, and she has to shake her heads to dislodge it from her eyes. When she can see past the reddish gloop, she stares at the walls around her.

The world has been painted in blood.

She blinks again, and realizes she too, is covered in blood. The Werewolf’s. Her lion head looks down at the spot where the Werewolf exploded, the shredded pieces of it’s flesh clinging to her fur and walls. A soft thud behind her and she whirls around, teeth bared. But it’s just Daphne and an unconscious Beta Tracey. The former is swaying dangerous, and Hermione morphs back mid-step.

She catches the Beta as she too faints, cradling her smaller body against hers. She inhales, smelling fresh blood under the thin skin. Slowly, her mouth starts to open. Just one taste . . . A little more . . . A soft whimper breaks through the haze. Hermione looks towards the Hufflepuff boy. He’s splattered in the blood, but he was mostly shielded by the sinks above him.

Quickly, she shuffles over to him, wrapping an arm around Beta Tracey’s middle as she does so. He just watches with impossible wide eyes as she joins him under the sinks. Not a moment later, the clattering of frantic footsteps betray the presence of the Professors. The Hufflepuff boy flinches towards her, and she smells his Beta scent under the blood. It’s something familiar.

Professor McGonagall, Professor Quirrell, and Professor Snape stumble to a screeching halt at the sight of the destruction. The Omega faints again.

≠ “What on earth . . .” ≠ Professor McGonagall breaths, her eyes taking it all in. Professor Snape’s eyes dart to her, calculating. When Professor McGonagall finally looks her way, she jerks in shock and horror, her mouth gapping.

“Minerva, they must go to the Hospital Wing,” Professor Snape growls, striding forwards. The Beta blinks out of her stupor, helping the Hufflepuff boy to his feet.

“Mr. Hawking, are you alright?” She asks softly, and Hermione’s mind goes blank. Her limbs feel sluggish as she walks, Daphne and Beta Tracey being levitated at Professor Snape’s side. She can only stare hard into the Beta’s back, her mind struggling to fish for memories of Harold Hawking.

* * *

Hermione wakes up to a hand gently rubbing her shoulder. Open an eye, she looks up at the nervous figure of Daphne standing next to her bed. Oh, that’s right. She’s in the Hospital Wing. Hermione sits up gingerly, yawning. She remembers how she crashed as soon as Omega Madam Pomfrey hosed all the blood off her.

“Y-y-you were that . . . Creature,” Daphne says, not raising her eyes to meet Hermione’s.

“Yes,” she yawns again, and her stomach growls. Looking around, she spots only Beta Tracey, sitting up with her knees to her chest. No sign of Harold. Daphne glances at the other witch.

“She’s . . . Unsettled . . . You killed . . .” Daphne tries to explain her thoughts. Looking in herself, Hermione knows she'd kill again to protect her own. She raises her hand slowly, the palm facing up. Daphne stares at it, then shakily places her hand on top of hers. Grasping it firmly, Hermione leads Daphne over to Beta Tracey, dull eyes looking up at her. Hermione takes her hand as well.

Facing her Beta’s, she makes sure she has both of their eyes on her.

“I, Hermione Eto Mendonica, do swear on my House’s honor that it was never my intent to harm you, nor shall I ever endeavor to do so,” she says in a clear voice, her magic stirring around her. The Beta’s stare, wide-eyed.

“I accept,” Daphne says after a beat.

“I accept,” Beta Tracey echos. Hermione smiles at them.

“Good, now let’s eat breakfast.”

Soon, the trio are inhaling their food, the bond between them stronger than ever. Hermione looks over to the Hufflepuff table, spotting Harold easily. Their eyes meet, and he ducks his head. Throughout the whole day, she keeps seeing him, and Hermione’s suddenly aware that he’s been here since day one. She’s also pleased that no gossip has spread about her. Beta Tracey kept quiet.

Finally, after her last class, Hermione corners him in the Library. He looks up at her startled, then looks away.

“Harold.”

If anything, he hunkers away from her.

“H-hermione,” He stammers.

“How have you been?”

“Terrible,” he says bluntly.

“That’s to be ex—”

“You were dead,” his head snaps up, his oh so familiar electric-blue eyes shining. His scent of new mahogany wood gets stronger, and Hermione realizes he’s scared of her. She relaxes her stance, leaning languidly against the back of his chair instead.

“Excuse me?”

“T-t-they said you were m-m-murdered! The police roped off your house . . .” he trails off, and looks down. She squeezes her eyes shut as phantom pain hits her. He’s talking about That Night.

“And?” She whispers.

“T-t-that it was a serial killer. I went to your f-family’s funeral,” he says softly. Harold looks up at her, head tilted.

“Y-you look different, like a lot,” he says, and she nods. She sits in the chair next to his.

“I was . . . Magically adopted, so I’m technically a Mendonica Alpha by blood now.”

Harold looks pensive for a moment.

“Iwon’ttellyoursecret!” He squeaks in one, hurried breath. But she nods, understanding him.

“D-do you . . . Do you remember, anything from before?” He asks, lowering his head. Hermione tilts her hand back and forth. Now that she’s thinking about, it’s not so defined as she would of liked it to be.

“It’s blurry, but I remember some things with some help. Like you,” she eyes him, seeing his cheeks tint pink. Suddenly he thrusts out his hand to her.

“If this is the new you, I-I’d like to introduce myself—Beta Harold Hawking,” his voice wavers a bit, but he seems determined. She smirks, amused. She takes his hand in a firm shake. They both shudder when they feel the familiar jolt energy pass through their skins.

“A pleasure to meet you Harold, I’m Alpha Hermione Mendonica, but you can call me Lurch,” she drawls, and he smiles brightly.

“Then call me Bluejay.”

* * *

Hallow’s Eve soon slides into the tragic past, and November rolls around. Bringing with it the first Quidditch game on Saturday. Daphne frets over her, continuously piling food on her plate until _Draco_ of all Alpha’s has to make her stop. In the Library, Hermioneloiters around, waiting until eleven o’clock chimes.

Harold sits awkwardly between to an equally awkward Ron, and a bored Harry. Neville is too engrossed in his Herbology book to notice the rest of the Slytherin First year girls around them.

“What are you doing?” Ron coughs, his eyes darting to Hermione then to the ceiling.

“Stretching,” Hermione grunts, interlocking her fingers andpushing her arms straight up. Pansy and her cohorts snicker. Before eleven rolls around, Hermione’s already down in the locker room. She changes quickly into her green and silver Quidditch robes, shouldering her broom.

Soon, the rest of the team files in, and Hermione turns her back when they change. Then Marcus calls them to order.

“Alright boys—er and girl; we have better brooms, better strength, better cunning, now lets go and crush those Gryffindor scum!” The boys roar their approval. Hermione rolls her eyes, fiddling with her braid, curtsey of Daphne. It’s tight; a French pattern with a green sash woven in it.

The two teams walk out onto the pitch, Hermione scanning the school in the stands. She’s aware of their stares. Standing in a line facing the Gryffindor team, she sees their determined faces.

Hermione’s team consists of Marcus as Captain and Chaser, along with Alpha Adrian Pucey and Alpha Terence Higgs, Beta Miles Bletchley as the Keeper, and two hulking, Beta Seventh year brutes as the Beaters. They’re cousins of Goyle and Crabbe. Then her, the First year Seeker. Their main Seeker, Beta Lucian Bole, cheers loudly from the stands.

The Gryffindor team consists of Olivier as Captain and Keeper, Alpha’s Fred and George Weasley as the Beaters, Alpha Angelina Johnson, Beta Alicia Spinnet, and Omega Katie Bell as the Chasers, and finally, Harry, their Seeker.

She kicks off at Madam Hooch’s whistle, rising fast. But instead of rising as high as Harry, she circles above the Gryffindor hoops, Oliver glaring at her while trying to track the Quaffle. Hermione also keeps an eye on Harry, realizing they have the same broom model.

That’s when she sees the glint of gold, flying past Adrian. She’s off in a snap, Harry racing her. She knows he’s better at a glance, he was simply bred to fly on a broom, while she prefers her own wings. He pushes forwards with a burst, just as Marcus slams into Harry’s broom.

She curses, ducking, Marcus’ tail wind sending her broom spiraling, but not as much as Harry’s. Circling high, she scans for the Snitch. A ripple in the crowd catches her attention, and she dodges a bludger. She looks over to see Harry jerk his broom to the side. Frowning, she watches him, and his broom rises slowly, the Alpha looking around wildly.

Then it rolls, Harry barely hanging on. The game pauses as everyone looks up at Harry. It gives a violent lurch, and Harry tumbles off, only catching himself with one hand.Fred and George try to rescue him, but the broom evades them, vibrating. Marcus scores five times. Hermione cautiously circles higher above him, watching as Harry’s broom shoots down, the Alpha yelping as he’s flung around.

The crowd are now on their feet, but Hermione only focuses on Harry. The broom moves as if it’s not natural in the air—as if controlled by someone who doesn’t fly. Still circling, she stretches out her hand, Thrall coiling. Then she clenches her fingers in a fist. Her Thrall rockets downwards, enveloping Harry and his broom.

The broom freezes, Hermione sensing malevolent intent before it vanishes. Withdrawing her Thrall slowly, she jerks her wrist in a swift ‘U’ movement. Harry squeaks as his body swings back onto his broom, and the stands erupt in cheers. The Alpha smiles widely, his head snapping up to her.

There. Hermione’s eyes slide past Harry to the Snitch a few meters below him. She doesn’t give any warning before she’s diving, Harry just managing to barrel roll out the way, but then he too dives. A Bludger arcs for her head, and she jerks to the side, her mouth open in a snarl.

Something metal passes past her lips, and Hermione chokes. Pulling up and level, she hacks, pounding her chest. Her breath comes heavy through her nostrils. Harry flies around her, concern on his face. How could she be so stupid? Hermione was supposed to catch the bloody thing—not swallow it!

Black spots dot her vision, and she tilts her broom down to the ground. Madam Hooch calls for timeout. Stumbling to her feet, she drops her broom, trying to couch up the magical ball, but it seems determined to shove it’s way further down her throat.

“Hermione!” Harry lands next to her, trying to figure out how to help. Both teams land near her, but the Slytherins block the Gryffindors from approaching. Marcus pushes Harry away.

“You jinxed my Seeker!” Marcus roars at Oliver, shoving him.

“You cursed my Seeker’s broom!” Oliver roars back, shoving Marcus back harder. The two Alphas rush at each other, pushing and punching. Hermione sits down, blood rushing to her head. She can’t think past her living choke hazard to even use her magic.

“Out of the way!” Harold roars, squeezing past a surprised Adrian and Miles.

“Lie down,” the Beta instructs, guiding her onto her back. Then without further ado, he slams his overlapped hands on her abdomen. Hermione lurches up, spitting. Harold does it again, and Adrian and Miles grab him roughly, throwing him on his back, wands at his throat. Hermione sits up, _finally_ throwing up the Snitch. It’s wings flitter exhaustedly, covered in her saliva.

But Hermione’s gasping lungfuls of air, and the Slytherins stare at the Snitch. Oliver turns Marcus around roughly.

“You swallowed it?” Marcus asks in disbelief.

“See? It worked,” Harold says weakly, cowering from Adrain and Miles.

“Let Harold be,” Hermione orders hoarsely, the boys stepping away from the Beta. Levitating the Snitch above her palm, she smirks.

“We won.”

* * *

Hermione evades Madam Pomfrey and skips right to the Slytherin afterparty. When older students break out the alcohol, the younger students are sent off to bed. Even Draco. Except her, everyone convinced she’s two years older than she is. Someone hands Hermione a bottle, and she nocks it back, hearing the cheers.

It’s unbearably bland to her, having been adjusted to Veela wine. Setting it aside, Hermione settles down against the couch, while the rest of Slytherin house dissolves into debauchery.

* * *

Hermione wakes up to see Daphne scowling down at her.

“At least you don’t _smell_ intoxicated,” She mutters, and Beta Tracey leans over Hermione as well.

“I wasn’t.”

Daphne leans closer, sniffing.

“You actually smell nice,” she mutters. At this distance between them, Hermione can see herself reflected in Daphne’s pupils. Another sniff, and those beautiful grass-green eyes glaze.

“Like mouthwatering grill smoke,” she whispers, a dopey expression on her face. Hermione’s cheeks start to flush.

“Uh, Daphne, a little close there,” Beta Tracey titters, her eyes alight with mirth. Daphne blinks, clarity clearing her eyes, and she leaps back. Stammering, the Beta leaves in with a huff, her face red. Beta Tracey just snickers behind her hand. Hermione rolls her eyes, and hurries up to her dorm to freshen up.

Walking down to breakfast, Hermione smiles at Harold, who gives her a shy smile back.

“Who _is_ he?” Pansy sniffs, scowling at Harold.

“A childhood friend,” Hermione answers, seeing Pansy’s shock.

“But he’s a _Muggleborn_ Beta!” There’s a tension in the air now.

“So?” She stares hard at Pansy, the Alpha starting to fidget under her stare.

“But . . . You’re a Pureblood Alpha,” Pansy trails off, unsure of herself for the first time.

“Again, so?” Hermione replies, and Pansy looks down, letting the subject drop. She looks back over to Harold, seeing him sitting straighter, his smile more ready. Overnight, Harold went from a lowly First year Hufflepuff to something more. The other Puffs move around him like he’s a Beta to be respected.

Hermione’s just glad that she doesn’t have to play Quidditch anymore. She doesn’t need Harold to perform the Abdominal Thrust on her, once was enough.

* * *

Yule holidays leap out from behind the proverbial tree, hitting Hermione with all the decorations in the castle. Most of the students leave to go to their families, while Hermione opts to stay at Hogwarts. There were very few students left, consisting of Daphne, Beta Tracey, Millicent, Harry, Ron, Neville, Harold, Fred and George, and Percy.

The Yule Eve feast was spectacular, and the food especially scrumptious. Daphne now seems to take great pride in deciding what Hermione gets to eat and how much of it. On Yule day, Hermione wakes to Beta Tracey’s groggy footsteps. Entering the bathroom, she bumps into Daphne, and stares.

She’s only seen the Beta in her uniform and night clothes, so seeing her in a pretty green dress is startling. Daphne blushes, and looks away. Muttering her apologies, Hermione quickly gets ready for the morning. Exiting the bathroom, she spies a large pile of presents at the foot of her bed.

Hermione feels the glee of such a pile rise in her chest. Err’sh rises his head from her pillow, and waddles to the edge of her bed. Daphne smiles at her shyly, and without a word, begins to open her presents daintily. Beta Tracey tears into hers, now fully awake. Hermione grins, and begins on her pile.

Souci and Federico sent her a collection of Italian sweets, Abby including a magical card of her posing in front the Vatican, Saint Peter’s Cathedral. Annie and Claire sent a glass figurine of a woman in billowing robes, her wand raised confidently. Juin and Elise sent her the _Atlas of Celestial Anomalies_ by M. P. N. Carnerius, and Eto sent her the _Guide to Advanced Occlumency_ by Maxwell Barnett.

Draco got her a broom attachment, a simple loop on with many silk strings. The tag reads that it supposedly wards off lessor jinxes and curses to the broom and rider. Harry sent her an oversized, bulky Muggle jacket. The card attached says that it’s modeled after Muggle University sports jackets, worn to show support for their team.

It’s dark Slytherin green with black and silver decorative stripes, the Slytherin House emblem covering the whole back. Her last name is in an arc under it in fancy stitched font. She shrugs it on, it warming her. Err’sh hops onto her shoulders, his talons digging in, not piercing the fabric. He clacks his beak in satisfaction.

Ron’s gift is a new Wizard Chess set, the pieces new and young. Daphne got her a medium size, Grey Wolf stuffed animal, and a necklace with two tiny rings; one deep blue and the other deep green; for Err’sh.


	5. Mirror Mirror On The Wall, Whose The Brightest Of Them All?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So Hermione's friend groups are becoming clearer . . .

Hermione puts it on him at his request after she detects no magic on them. She tucks the stuffed animal in her lap. Pansy, Beta Tracey, and Millicent gave her makeup pallets. Neville gave her a chocolate bunny, and discards the Weasley twins’ innocent looking fake wand. The next parcel is wrapped in brown paper with a messy bow holding it together. Inside is a poorly carved, wooden cat.

The paintwork is a choppy, dull red, with globs of gold for the eyes. But she loves it with all it’s flaws. She sets down the old gift, picking up the last one. She pulls out a hand knitted Slytherin scarf, envy green with swirling, small, silver snakes all over it. A letter falls out of the carefully wrapped up scarf.

Opening the letter, she reads:

_Dear Miss Mendonica,_

_We send our gift to you, to thank you for helping our Ronald in his schooling._

_Mr. and Mrs. Weasley_

* * *

That night, Hermione strolls around the silent halls, feeling Hogwarts’ walls. If she closes her eyes and _listens_, she can feel the castle’s steady beating pulse. Holding the stuffed animal she’s decided to name Lady Green, she heads towards the Library’s Restricted Section. A yelp and a cascade of thuds near her makes her freeze mid-step.

Taking a step back, she sees a disembodied arm twitching, and Harold lying awkwardly with his torso missing.

Neville sit up, stammering out apologizes, Harry’s Invisibility Cloak sliding off him.

“Boys,” she says, and both of them jump in fright.

“Er, hi Lurch,” Harold says, starting to collect a stack of books strewn about.

“Hermione!” Neville squeaks, scrambling to his feet. He keeps his eyes down.

“I-I need your help!” He says, the Cloak bundled in his hands.

“At this hour? Is that a—” Harold starts to say.

“I need a book in the Restricted Section!” Neville blurts.

“Then let’s go,” Hermione turns, heading to the locked gates. The boys hurry after her, Harold leaving his stack of books behind.

“What do you want to find?” Harold whispers. Hermione points two fingers at the lock, her magic shifting the wards inside.

“Um, the first edition of the _Book of Spells_ by Miranda Goshawk,” Neville whispers back, his eyes roaming the bookshelves.

“The books aren’t ordered in any fashion, so finding it could take a while,” Hermione informs, and she hears Neville sigh. As they slowly make their way through the aisles, the night gets darker. They wander further into the Restricted Section, when Hermione spots a door slightly ajar. The boys are a bit behind her, talking in hushed tones.

She looks around, seeing a suit of armor. Hermione walks towards the door, slipping through. Inside, looks like an abandoned classroom. At the back wall of the room is a large, cloth covered object.

“Lurch?” Harold hisses, he and Neville stepping into the room. She strides up to it, raising a hand to the cloth, her magic pulsing. Slowly, the cloth slides off, revealing a mirror, it’s sides decorated with old gold and swirling splendor. Along the top are engraved words.

_Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi._

* * *

“Lurch—woah!” Harold stumbles to a standstill next to her. Neville walking up on her other side, his breath catching. Reflected in the mirror are themselves . . . But not. At least not yet. The three in the mirror are all adults, maybe early twenties. They stand before four different thrones, wearing strange crowns and garb.

They’re lined up perfectly with their reflection, but there’s an empty space between Hermione and Neville, a fourth place. Mirror Harold’s wearing an immaculate three-piece suit, a gnarled, black crown like roots jutting up into the air resting askew on his head. The Beta’s hair is longer in a low ponytail behind him, and he’s standing relaxed with a sly smirk, his hands clasped behind himself.

His throne is dark gold and black marble, with the same twisting design as his crown carved into the throne.

Mirror Neville’s wearing elegant, bloodred robes, their cut sweeping around his frame. It’s majestic, and masculine, a silken cape pooling out around his feet like water. His hair islike a wild lion’s mane, accented with a golden crown with fierce spikes resting perfectly atop his head. The Omega’s face is focused, but there’s a playful shine to his eyes where his mouth is straight.

His throne is red and bright gold marble, with sharp edges to the carved leaves, teeth, and blocks.

Mirror Hermione’s wearing a sensual, dark green, silk gauze, backless and strapless dress so dark it looks black. The sides cut slim to show her curves. It has to be staying on due to magic. The dress ripples out in ribbons, reaching the floor to show her bare feet. Her hair is down, threaded through a simplistic silver crown with straight spikes with wicked hooks at the ends. The Alpha stares hard, a predatory smile showing whilst her eyes glint.

Her throne is dark green and dark silver marble, it seeming to be made of thousands of tendrils, like snakes writhing over each other. Mirror Lady Green rests on the seat.

Then there’s the fourth figure. Hermione can’t see past the hazy, but she knows that it’s missing from their lives. She’s read about this object; the Mirror of Erised. The inscription reads: _I show not your face but your heart’s desire._

“Who’s the fourth?” Neville whispers, as if afraid to break the spell hanging over them.

“Ravenclaw,” Harold answers, and Hermione nods.

“Let’s go,” she mutters. As one, they turn and leave the Mirror and its reflections behind.

* * *

They don’t speak of that night in the Library, the night that shouldn’t of happened. But they have changed to each other; seeking each other’s eyes constantly. Hermione has made it clear in underlying tones that Neville and Harold are off limits for harassment, a concept no Slytherin has yet to push.

Boxing Day marks the fall of the holidays, and Quidditch becomes the eagerly awaited highlight of the school year. Professor Snape leads her up to the Staff Box, an odd contraption resting in front of the bench with a tube to speak into. Attached to that is a large horn. Pushing the thing to the side, she draws out her wand, pointing it at the side of her neck.

“_Sonorus!_” She clears her throat, hearing the sound echo out easily over the whole Pitch. Slowly, the staff fill up the box, Professor McGonagall sitting on her left and Dumbledore on her right. The stands fill as students trickle in, and soon, the thrill of anticipation grows. The teams have yet to come out.

“Good morning Hogwarts! Today, the fourth match of the year is Hufflepuff vs Gryffindor! Professor Snape shall be reffing,” Hermione says, her voice projecting out clearly. There is a roar of approval from the stands, and then both teams march out.

The Hufflepuff team consists of Alpha Cedric Diggory as Captain and Seeker, Alpha Anthony Rickett and Beta Michael McManus as the Beaters, Alpha Malcolm Preece, Omega Heidi Macavoy, and Beta Tamsin Applebee as the Chasers, and Omega Herbert Fleet as the Keeper.

“And they’re off—Gryffindor in possession—Alicia passes over Malcolm to Katie—Bludger!—Hufflepuff in possession!—penalty to Gryffindor! Direct Bludger aimed at the referee!” Hermione says loudly, her eyes scanning the pitch.

“Gryffindor scores the penalty—Hufflepuff in possession—Heidi passes to Tamsin—blocked by Angelina!—penalty to Gryffindor! Unsure of the reason though,” Hermione trails off, trying to see what she missed.

“Gryffindor scores—Harry’s diving!” Hermione and the rest of the stands watch as he rockets towards the ground.

“He’s spotted the Snitch—but he’s in the referee’s the way!” Hermione says, leaning forwards as Professor Snape turns at the last second. Only to have Harry pull up, his hands clutching the Snitch.

“Gryffindor wins by the quickest catch of the Snitch in Hogwarts history!” Hermione shouts, and the stands erupt in cheers. She clears her throat, it’s a little sore.

“_Quietus,_” she sheathes her wand, rubbing her neck. Professor McGonagall hands her a flask of water, which Hermione takes after a small sniff. Standing, she stretches, leaving the Staff Box.

* * *

In ten weeks, students are to take their Final Exams. This very fact heightens the pressure of the Professors on the students, thus applying more study time, while the providing the First years more free time. Oddly enough, she and Pansy bond over discussing languages. Their shaky acquaintanceship smooths out into a reliable relationship, and if pressed Hermione would admit to that Pansy has ascended to an ally.

Although none of Hermione’s Slytherin year mates can see why she would willingly spend time with Harry, Ron, Neville, and Harold. Sitting at a table with Neville and Harold, she’s rereading the _Atlas of Celestial Anomalies_ when she hears the Omega greet Hagrid. She and Harold look up, watching the Half-Giant shift nervously.

“Er, ’ello there Neville,” he says gruffly, trying and failing to hide a book behind himself.

“Whatcha got there Hagrid,” Harold asks, pointing at the hidden book. Hargid’s face grows pale with alarm.

“Nothen yer students need tuh know ’bout,” He says quickly, shuffling out of the Library. They share suspicious looks.

“What was that about?” Neville asks bewildered. Harold slips away to where Hagrid was, and comes rushing back with wide eyes.

“Dragons! He’s been looking up how to care for a Dragon!” He gasps, and Hermione goes still. Neville winces.

“You can’t, it’s illegal, I forget what law said it was, but it is!” He whispers.

“Should we go check?” Harold murmurs, leaning in. Neville shakes his head, his eyes afraid.

“No no—we should report him—”

“We need proof to accuse Dumbledore’s favorite bumbling pet,” Hermione cuts him off. Try as she might, she can’t get over her aversion to Hagrid. It might be the Veela in her. Harold nods at the logic, while Neville looks nervous. They leave the Library quickly, heading down to Hagrid’s Hut.

Crouching low, they wind their way around the pumpkin patch to the side window. As they near it, they spot distinctive blond hair.

“Draco?” Hermione hisses, the Alpha flinching downwards and away from the Hut. His breathing is erratic, and it takes him a second to place Hermione.

“He’s got a _Dragon!_” Draco hisses, jabbing his finger at the window. The curtains inside open a crack.

“What kind?” Harold asks, and Draco scowls at him.

“Do I look like an egg expert?” He snaps, Harold flinching from the Alpha tone. Hermione narrows her eyes at Draco, and he lowers his eyes.

“Sorry,” he mutters. Crouching by the window, she peers in, spotting Hagrid, Harry, and Ron by the fireplace. Ron shifts around, and she sees the egg inside the pot over the fire. Hagrid takes hold of the pot with a pair of tongs, gently dumping the egg onto the table.

“I want to see Lurch!” Harold whispers excitedly, Draco making a strangling sound at the nickname. She moves over, letting Harold get a peek. Neville does too. When its her turn, she gasps when the egg shakes.

“What is it?” Draco breaths, trying to look over her head.

“It’s hatching,” she replies. The egg shakes, cracks, and then a baby creature falls out.

“It’s a Wyvern, not a Dragon,” she exclaims. Draco’s leans forwards, but his forehead knocks against the glass, and they hear the shouts from inside.

“Run!” Hermione hisses, all four bolting for the doors of Hogwarts. With her longer legs, she bounds ahead, holding the doors open for the others. She looks back to the Hut just as Harry throws open the door, eyes locking on Draco.

* * *

They swear to keep the Wyvern’s existence a secret until they can steal it from Hagrid and somehow get it to the Dragon Sanctuary in Romania. She remembered that Ron’s brother works in Romania studying dragons, and Neville assured her that he’d rescue the illegally owned Wyvern.

Looking over to the Gryffindor table, she narrows her eyes when she sees Ron cradling his hand. She makes eye contact with Draco down at his side of the table, and with a wisp of her Thrall, turns his head towards Ron. His eyes widen. Daphne pauses mid-bite when Hermione’s Thrall retracts, as if she felt it. Shaking her head, the Beta resumes her breakfast.

Excusing herself, Hermione tails Harry and Ron towards the Hospital Wing.

“No! We can’t risk Norbert! Pomfrey will _definitely_ know what a Dragon bite looks like!” Ron hisses. So Hagrid named the Wyvern.

“You shouldn’t let a Wyvern bite fester,” she drawls, leaning against the wall. The Gryffindors whirl around, Ron hiding his hand, and Harry stepping in front of Ron.

“After too long, no amount of magic will save that finger,” Hermione says bluntly. Ron’s face pales.

“What are you going to do?” Harry demands. She straightens off the wall, raising an eyebrow.

“Have you owled your brother?” She asks Ron. He nods.

“Y-yeah, Charlie said we have to get Norbert to the tallest tower on Saturday night,” Ron rambles, staring at the infected wound. Hermione shares a look with Harry.

“In return for distracting Madam Pomfrey, you let me accompany you,” she says.

* * *

She visits Norbert the Norwegian Ridgeback with Harry, finding him _frighteningly_ much larger than she last saw him. Tonight is the night Alpha Charlie Weasley comes, and the next task is getting Norbert up to the Astronomy Tower. On the way down to Hagrid’s Hut, Harry told her how the Half-Giant won the egg in a tavern drunk from an equally drunk man in Knockturn Alley.

Ignoring Hagrid’s weeping goodbyes, she helps Harry fling over his Invisibility Cloak over the wooden crate.

“Alright, you grab one end, I’ll grab the other,” Harry says, reaching down.

“Harry,” she sighs, and he looks up. She taps his robes where his wand is.

“Oh, right, erm—” his cheeks flush. Hermione flicks her fingers at the crate, and it levitates.

“Let’s be off then,” she says. Pushing and guiding the crate up to the winding stairs to the top of the Astronomy Tower, they don’t have to wait long for Charlie. He arrives with a few of his Alpha mates from the Sanctuary. Charlie’s short, thick, and muscular, weather-beaten face, loads of freckles,and a shiny burn on his left bicep.

They take care of Norbert, flying him away on their brooms. The job well done, they start to descend the stairs, Hermione freezing when she hears footsteps. She pushes Harry back up the stairs just around the round wall of the tower. They peer past the curve to see Professor McGonagall, the Beta woman clad in only a bathrobe with her hair piled messily on her head.

And she’s furiously storming down the hall, dragging a stuttering Draco by the ear. When the coast is clear, Hermione spies Mrs. Norris. They share a look, and the cat doubles back.

“Merlin, that could of been us,” Harry whispers, his voice unusually high pitched.

* * *

At the portrait of _The Slytherin Witch_, Hermione’s luck runs out for the night. The portrait opens to reveal Professor Snape. They stare at each other, both unmoving.

“It seems you left your fellow Snake to Professor,” he drawls.

“On the contrary sir, he and I had separate plans that corresponded on the same night,” Hermione replies smoothly. Professor Snape merely scowls, and stalks past her, his cloak billowing.

“Sloppy,” he growls.

Waking up the next day, Hermione finds a note tucked under Lady Green. She lifts the stuffed animal from her side, reading it. She’s to keep Draco out of trouble during his detention. The note also awards her forty points for successfully ridding Hogwarts of a Wyvern.

* * *

There’s a slight significance when the students look at the House points, Slytherin neck-and-neck with Gryffindor, closely followed by Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw last. Hermione, quite pleased with herself, is unaware of the wary looks at her good mood. She turns to Draco, a scowl on his face. He’s not looking forward to his detention tonight.

Draco snatches a letter from his Eagle Owl, his scowl dropping to curiosity.

“Hermione, did your Mum owl my aunt?” Hermione raises an eyebrow.

“What?”

“My father says that you’re coming over during the first week of summer to meet Aunt Bella.”

Hermione tilts her head, wondering what Eto’s planning.

* * *

Much later, Hermione escorts Draco to Hagrid’s hut.

“I don’t understand, why do you have to be here?” Draco whispers as they near Hagrid and Argus.

“Ensuring we’ll be breathing by this time tomorrow,” she whispers back. Before he can reply, Argus spies them, grinning wickedly. Hagrid perks up at the sight of Hermione, his impression of her changing when he heard she helped get Norbert to safety. His big mastiff, Fang, woofs happily.

“Hullo Hermione, er, whatcha doin’ here again?” Hermione ignores Argus’ suspicious look.

“I stuck my Housemate to the ceiling all night,” she shakes her head, sighing with a shrug. Draco doesn’t look impressed with her lie. Argus grunts something sounding like “Wish I could too.”

“Oh. Well then. The Forest is filled with all sorts of dark things,” Hagrid says. Argus merely sneers, leaving them. Hagrid draws himself up importantly, his crossbow at the ready with Fang by his side. Draco’s merely growls under his breath, but she taps him lightly with her Thrall.

He flicks his eyes up to her. Hermione puts a finger to her mouth, and follows Hagrid into the Dark Forest.

* * *

“What are we here for?” Hermione whispers as they step off the path into the dense woods. Draco sticks uncharacteristically close to her, he the reason for most of her almost trips. Hermione morphs her eyes into a cat’s, the tiny light now showing her the forest as well as it would like in daylight. The woods are dense, most of the leaves cutting off what meager moonlight there is.

“At firs’ the Unicorns started disappearing,” Hagrid whispers, and Draco gulps nervously.

“And then?” Hermione asks softly. They climb over a fallen tree, huge gash marks ripped down it’s trunk, a few days old at best. Draco’s eyes are wide, his breathing slightly uneven.

“Then them Centaurs started patrolling more regularly,” they shuffle in the dark. Suddenly Hagrid stops, crossbow pointed at something in front of them, when he sighs. He steps around the thing, Hermione blinking when she sees the mangled corpse of a Werewolf. This one wasn’t like the one that she killed. This is a runty thing.

Draco opens his mouth, panting heavily as he stumbles backwards.

“We’er hunt’n sometin’ that scares Unicorns, and kills Werewolves,” Hagrid says grimly, his giant crossbow up.

“Dumbledore’s trying to kill us!” Draco lunges onto her arm, terror pouring off him. Hermione grimaces, and keeps close to Hagrid. They walk a bit more, when suddenly the bushes next to them rustle. Draco jumps so high, he flings himself into Hermione’s arms. She widens her stance, scenting the air. All three let out a breath when a Centaur steps out.

“Greetings this night Hagrid, you have students with you?” He says in a deep voice. She lowers her head respectfully.

“Do you learn well in your school?” The Centaur redirects, his eyes on Hermione. Draco’s scared stiff. Fang wags his tail.

“Yes,” Hermione says, setting Draco down. The Alpha echoes her. Tuning out Hagrid, she focuses on the Centaur—Ronan. The Centaur doesn’t answer Hagrid’s questions, but look to the stars.

≠ “Mars is bright tonight.” ≠

Hermione walks over to the Centaur, looking up to see the tiny red planet. She remembers what Mars represents from the _Atlas of Celestial Anomalies_. She turns to Ronan, who looks down at her calmly.

“Mars of War,” she says, and he nods. There’s more rustling, and another Centaur—Bane—appears. Bane walks over to Ronan and Hermione, parroting Ronan. Hermione puts her hand on Ronan’s fore haunch. She looks up into his dark eyes, her magic linking with his.

§War is waiting, isn’t it?§ Hermione nickers, looking back up to the stars, the Centaurs looking down at her with knowing faces.

“Come on Hermione, let’s go!” Hagrid calls, she jogging after him. As she does, she feels like she’s leaving something behind in that small clearing.

— . —

_Sonorus!_ = Amplifying Charm

_Quietus,_ = Quieting Charm


	6. Justice Isn't Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione wraps up the school year with a hush.

As they stalk through the Forest, Hermione keeps looking up, trying to find Mars through the thick tree branches. Every time she does, a little thrill goes through her. Draco stumbles over another root, his soft thud making Hermione turn around. Sighing, she looks down at his sprawled, prone form, unconscious on the forest floor. Leaning down, Hermione flinches when she hears a startled cry, and the whine of a dog.

Whirling around, her heart nearly stops. A hot breath puffs against her face, rancid and dank. Her eyes go cross eyed looking at the huge nose barely touching hers. The beast rises on its hind legs, towering high over them, its huge rack of sharp antlers casting shadows over them. It looks like the combination of a grizzly bear and a moose.

Letting loose a bellowing roar down at her, Hermione’s instincts flare. Her body throbs, convulsing as she screams in agony. The beast almost looks taken back, then angry. Hermione can barely see through a haze of thick purple stars, she feeling her body jerking, moving—

* * *

—wet sugar drops off her skin in hot, sticky globs, only her back not touched by it’s intense warmth. A heavy, wet, whimper, starts up, fading as something large drags itself away. Vaguely, Hermione catches sight of the red planet.

_Mars is bright tonight._

Like falling in water, she feels her gravity shift, tilting backwards. Hands catch her, bringing her up high as she’s pressed up against a soft, cold chest. Looking up, she sees a Centaur, blacking to him leaning in.

* * *

Hermione wakes to swaying gentle. She blinks, opening her eyes, looking up at the Centaur carrying her. She hears more hooves, then loud voices, two she recognizes.

§FIRENZE! What have you done?!§ It’s Bane, Hermione blinks more, trying to wipe her eyes. She’s surrounded by Centaurs, all of them circling her. Firenze is holding her.

§Nothing, Bane.§

§Then why is she here in the Sacred Grove?§ Hermione stirs.

§Where—what happened?§ Hermione mumbles, her eyes still a cat’s, as she looks around, the herd trotting around her in a state of reverence. Ronan walks up to her, taking her hand with his.

§Oh Soul of the Fallen, let the Centaurs be another to bestow you a name, by the language of Starwan,§ Ronan nickers. Her eyes widen at that name. The Gate called her that.

§Offspring Under Mars’ Light of the Dark Forest, I bid you welcome to our homefields,§ Ronan bows his head, and the rest of the herd follows, Hermione looking around at them.

§Mars is indeed bright tonight.§

* * *

Hermione must have inhaled too much of the strange smoke from the tribal pipes the herd smoked, as she’s drifting through strange dreams filled with swimming through billions of stars, circling the red planet, _Mars_. Chasing a living shadow that cowered behind the planet’s brilliance. Hermione slowly comes to, with the now familiar gait of Firenze’s body.

Yawning, she sees the early dawn of morning, she startles awake. Hermione hears relieved cries, Professor McGonagall hurrying towards them, her face pinched with worry.

“Miss Mendonica!” She cries out, right on her heels are Professor Snape, Madam Pomfrey, Hagrid, and Dumbledore himself.

“Peace, Professors, your filly has been safe the whole night,” Firenze soothes. He hands her over to Madam Pomfrey, who has a conjured cot waiting for her. Keeping silent, she watches as Firenze walks back into the Dark Forest, until the front doors of Hogwarts castle shut her view. Inside the Infirmary, Hermione sees a sleeping Draco, and accepts a _Sleeping Draught_.

* * *

The assembled adults—minus Hagrid since he’s tending to a wounded Fang—look down at the sleeping Alpha. They’ve never seen a student quite like her, and Dumbledore taught Tom Riddle and Bellatrix Black. He gets a glint in his eyes.

“Albus, what are you plotting?” Minerva accuses. He chuckles good naturally, his Beta misses nothing.

“You seem to have taken quite a shine to Miss Mendonica, Minerva,” he says in response.

“It’s how she connects with the world, her magic reaches out to ours, pulling us in, to subconsciously protect herself, or to keep her friends close and enemies closer,” she replies. Severus’s scowl merely tightens. Madam Pomfrey, however, is a jumble of nerves.

“Centaurs! You _know_ what they do to unprotected girls! She spent the whole night with them—”

“Poppy, I trust the herd, they would never hurt a foal,” Dumbledore soothes, his blue eyes twinkling.

“Come now, let’s continue this in my office.”

* * *

Hermione wakes up to see Draco just about to touch her hand. Sitting up, Hermione stares at the amount of candy and gifts spilling off the table next to her bed onto the floor. The doors open, revealing Dumbledore. Smiling he walks over to them.

“Good morning, did you two sleep well?” Hermione and Draco share a look. Dumbledore smiles nonetheless, eyeing the candy stash.

“Ah, tokens from friends and admirers, wishing you to get well after your ordeal. Hagrid told me about your excursion in the Forest, but the rest of the details are up in air so to speak,” Dumbledore says brightly, hedging for answers.

“What does the school know, Headmaster?” Draco questions.

“Only what the rumors say,” Dumbledore replies with a vague non-answer. Hermione carefully weaves a strand of Thrall around Draco’s lips, but the Alpha knows to keep silent. Just then, Madam Pomfrey bustles in, a cross look on her face.

“_Albus Dumbledore!_ I _specifically_ said to let the students rest after their ordeal!” The Dragon of the Hospital Wing has officially appeared. Half guiding half forcing the disgruntled Headmaster out of her domain, the Dragon effectively evicts him from the Hospital Wing. Hermione hears unseen footsteps slip in.

Draco cracks a smile as Madam Pomfrey huffs, returning to her office. They wait a beat, and then start speaking in hushed French.

“**How’d you get here?**” Hermione asks him, eyes surveying the room to locate the students under Harry’s Cloak.

“**I was rudely shaken awake by the ankle, then thrown out of the—!**” Draco grouches, but his sentence is cut off by a squeak. Daphne and Beta Tracey drop the Cloak.

“**DO YOU KNOW HOW WORRIED I WAS?!**” She hisses shrilly, wrapping both Hermione and Draco in a tight hug. Pulling back, she hits them hard with a roll of newspaper in the head.

“**WHAT THE BLOODY FUCK WERE YOU THINKING?!**” She screams, repeatedly smacking them on the heads. Beta Tracey merely stands a safe distance away, a bemused smirk on her face. Daphne raises the _Daily Prophet_ again, but Hermione grabs the Beta’s wrist, and yanks Daphne towards her. The Beta yelps, squirming as Hermione holds her tight against her body.

“**We’re safe now, nothing hurt us,**” Hermione sooths, laying a gentle wave of Thrall over Daphne. She combs her fingers through Daphne’s hair, knowing how calming it can be. The Beta slumps against her, breathing deeply as her heart calms. Draco and Beta Tracey both sport knowing smirks.

* * *

“Exactly five minutes, Madam Pomfrey, I promise,” Hermione smiles at the Omega woman, who just can’t resist that innocent brightness of it.

“Alright, but exactly _five,_” she opens the doors, scowling at the amount of people who come through. Her female year mates crowd her bed, while their male year mates gather around Draco. Harold, Harry, Ron, and Neville, come too. She lets everyone have her candy.

“Merlin’s beard Hermione, who brought you a toilet?” Blaise exclaims, looking at it oddly. In between inhaling sweats, Ron asks what went down in the Forest, the room going silent. Draco looks towards Hermione, letting her speak.

“Dumbledore sent us with Hagrid to hunt a beast that scares Unicorns and kills Werewolves,” she states clearly. A horrified gasp echoes through everyone. Madam Pomfrey pales.

“Of course we couldn’t kill it, and the Centaurs scared it off for now,” Hermione continues, and Madam Pomfrey decides to cut their time short, shooing them all out. By the end of the day, the rest of Hogwarts is aware of the story. It spirals like locusts through the Pureblood circles, even making its way to an unamused DMLE Head Black.

She storms into the Minister of Magic’s office, slamming her nephew’s letter on his desk. Minister Riddle sighs, and reads it.

“Interesting, let’s see the old Headmaster’s counter,” he orders. DMLE Head Black rolls her eyes.

“Gladly,” she replies. The next morning, the headlines of the _Daily Prophet_ read; _Snakes and Beasts!_ Written by Beta Rita Skeeter.

* * *

Exams are upon the school, always the written material first, then the practical exams. Hermione has Charms first, finishing the written efficiently. Then she makes her pineapple tap dance across Professor Flitwick’s desk, her fingers waving as she plays it to her own music. In Transfiguration, she’s turning a ≠ mouse into a snuff box. ≠

She holds the mouse, closing her eyes, letting her magic flow. A gleaming, silver snuff box lies in her hands, flora and mice running amok along its sides. On the lid was an ornamental piece of a _fleur-de-lis_. In Potions they were to brew the _Forgetfulness Potion_. Professor Snape stalks around them, glaring and sneering at potions not to his liking.

Hermione easily finishes her History of Magic exam, handing her papers in, seeing many opting to doodling over their exams. Her next exam is Astronomy, she having to identify as many constellations as she can find, filling it out on her sheet with the names of the stars in their clusters.

Leaving that one satisfied, the night blurs into day, and Hermione attends Defense Against the Dark Arts. As much as she detests Professor Quirrell’s, his exams are sound, she taking her time to double check each question. The Omega is sitting in the corner, wand out as he taps it against his hand. His supposed menacing look is ruined by the growing mound of flowers appearing out of his wand.

Hermione heads down to Greenhouse One for Herbology, sitting amongst the plants as she and the others write up on the written parts. A Hufflepuff girl shrieks as green tendrils suddenly wrap around her torso. Harold leaps up, a _Lumos_ _Solem_ shooting from his wand. The Devil’s Snare that managed to enter the Greenhouse retreats instantly, releasing the shivering Hufflepuff girl.

Professor Sprout there, taking notes, nodding happily in Harold’s direction. There’s a break for First year students until their flight test. Fortunately that’s a simple pass or fail. Lying on her bed, Err’sh flies in, settling on her back. He croons softly, taking some of her stress onto himself through their bond.

Err’sh shudders, beating his wings to relieve the phantom ache in his muscles. All too soon, Hermione’s down in the Quidditch pitch. Madam Hooch has they perform basic maneuvers, and a little obstacle course. When she watches Hermione, she makes a check on her board. She pats her shoulder.

“You’re a First year on the Slytherin team, that counts for high marks in my book,” Madam Hooch winks, and Hermione nods. Across the field,Err’sh who’s watching from the sidelines with Daphne turns his head to look at the Beta. She gulps. Bobbing his head, he waddles onto her lap, shuffling around until he settles comfortably. Hermione looks up, smiling at the sight.

* * *

Hermione walks through the halls of Hogwarts, wearing her new Slytherin scarf, enjoying the peace. Gradually, she hears Professor Quirrell’s voice, the Omega muttering to himself. She slows, listening cautiously.

“. . . I can do this . . . Yes . . . I’ll go speak with him . . . I can get him another . . .” the Professor mutters, no stuttering in his voice at all. Hermione narrows her eyes, and carefully follows the Omega’s scent to the Dark Forest. Pausing by the main doors, she watches as Professor Quirrell enters without hesitation. Hermione’s quick to follow. Once she’s beyond the tree line, she morphs into her Ancient Chimoretis form.

The Forest shrinks around her, but she picks her way carefully, moving silently through the Forest. She crouches, stalking downwind of the Professor. He’s in a large clearing, his wand out, but she can smell his fear. The winds twist, bringing the scent of a Werewolf. This one, however, is strong.

Very strong.

Professor Quirrell fights not to shiver, as he holds out his wand to the side. The Werewolf doesn’t come out into the evening sky, merely letting his yellow eyes shining in the shady gloom.

“I need another Werewolf!” Professor Quirrell barks out, the Werewolf’s eyes never moving from the trembling Omega’s.

“I don’t see anyone to grace the Gift with . . . Other than you,” the Werewolf growls. Professor Quirrell’s wand is aimed at the eyes, making the Werewolf chuckle darkly.

“I gave you a Werewolf already.”

“B-but I’ll get you another student!” Professor Quirrell blurts out and the Werewolf stills. She hears him lick his chops.

“I want the next one not mortally wounded,” the Werewolf moans, and Hermione forces down her snarl.

“You’ll have to wait until I can get another Ravenclaw,” Professor Quirrell sounds nervous, and Hermione’s eyes widen. She killed that Ravenclaw Chaser. Lowering her heads, she realizes the act doesn’t change for her. The Beta was already half dead when he was turned.

Suddenly the winds shift, and the Werewolf jerks his head to the left. A sharp yelp and then the Werewolf Killer is here. The wannabe murderer Quirrell sprinting away into the Forest. The beast snarls, a throaty, wet sound. It’s angry its prey escaped. It limps into the clearing, beady eyes fixed on her. Hermione stares in horror at the mangled, bloody flesh and bones.

It’s barely being held together by repulsive magic, and one of its grotesque antlers is missing. She rears up, all her heads opening. Her stomach grows hot, and a column of sweltering air is blasting out of her lion head’s mouth. Her dragon head spews forth blue fire, her goat head the black gas, and her snake head the lightning. Together, Hermione sparks a kaleidoscope of fire, hitting the beast straight on.

It’s dying scream shakes the air. Shutting her mouths, Hermione stares at the black ash that floats down. Not even bones remain. Distantly, she hears Quirrell scream. Trotting towards the sound, heading deeper into the Forest. The trees are tall enough to make her seem small now, their thick foliage blocking the sun. She steps carefully around the spider silk covering the ground.

Looking up, she sees Quirrell trip and fall. He scrambles to his feet, screaming when he sees her. Growling low, she stalks towards him, the Omega tripping on the spider silk. Suddenly the crackling and hissing starts around them, Hermione on full alert. Looking up, she spreads her stance, seeing giant spiders descending from the tree branches above.

Acromantulas.

A rumble shakes the ground, and a spider larger than any of the others appears at the top of the small ridge, it slowly descending.

“Alpha! Help me! _Alpha!_” Quirrell cries, curling on the spiderweb covered forest floor. The giant spider looks at Hermione.

“Is this . . . Your prey?” The spider asks in a deep, raspy voice. Hermione nods with her snake head. It keeps a close watch at the spiders behind her. The spider clicks his pinchers.

“You trespass . . . Will you . . . Give us . . . Your prey?” He asks, the other spiders shifting around restlessly. Hermione bows her heads, backing away from Quirrell.

‡†··¡¡_Yesss,_¡¡··†‡ she says with all her heads, her voice echoing with the four different languages as she speaks. The giant spider roars, and all the spiders surge forwards on Quirrell, his screams for his Alpha as he’s swallowed by the bodies piling on top of him. Staring, she turns, leaving the Omega who forced her hand to kill to the feasting colony.

* * *

No one knows where Quirrell disappeared off to, only that the Centaurs delivered pieces of his snapped wand to Dumbledore. She’s out on the grounds with Daphne, Beta Tracey, and Draco when it happens.

“He sealed his fate in the spider's web,” Firenze says solemnly. Dumbledore inspects the pieces, bowing his thanks. Firenze’s eyes rove over to Hermione before he leaves. Daphne shivers.

“I hate spiders,” she mutters. Err’sh appears overhead, circling.

*Hermione Cage-Breaker! The Centaurs have delivered your bones by the Black Lake!* Err’sh whistles overhead. Hermione stands quickly, startling the others. Hurrying towards the Black Lake, she sees Bane and Ronan. Slowing, she stares at the massive antler that looks like it’s been ripped clean of its skull between them. There’s also a pile of woven baskets full of ash.

§Well met, Offspring Under Mars’ Light of the Dark Forest,§ Bane says, and Hermione quickly replies. Err’sh lands on her shoulders.

§Well met, Bane of the Dark Forest, Ronan of the Dark Forest,§ Hermione responds in Starwan.

§Offspring, these bones are what’s left of your Right of Conquest,§ Bane nickers. Right on cue, a Goblin claws its way out of the ground in front of her.

/And that’s where I come in,/ Griphook says.

/Second Warrior Crowfoot, I welcome you to Hogwarts,/ she says smoothly, switching languages with ease. He smirks, showing rows of sharp teeth.

/I feel welcomed. Gringotts has already legalized your Right of Conquest, the only question now is do you want store it in your Personal Vault?/ He asks.

/Store the ash, I wish to keep the antler. Is our deal set?/

Griphook smiles toothily.

/Our deal is set./

He stomps his foot. Instantly, three more Goblins pull themselves out from the ground, then drag the baskets down into the earth. Griphook jumps into the large hole, and the ground pushes itself back up, perfectly flat again. Bane and Ronan excuse themselves, just in time too, for Professor Snape appears.

“What is this?” He demands, striding towards her, his eyes flicking over to the antler. Hermione stands next to it protectively.

“My Right of Conquest,” she says. His eye brows rise.

“Very well, I shall assist you in packaging it away.”

* * *

“In fourth place, Hufflepuff, with two-hundred-and-five points,” Dumbledore says, the Gryffindor table brimming with excitement.

“In third place, Ravenclaw, with three-hundred-and-eleven points. In second place, Slytherin, with three-hundred-and-fifty points,” Draco holds up his cup.

“Good bye six year winning streak.”

“And in first place, Gryffindor, with three-hundred-and-sixty points.”

The red and gold table erupts into cheers, banners unfolding from the ceiling, showing the lion emblem. Dumbledore coughs to get the student’s attention.

“Yes well done indeed Gryffindor,” he says fondly, but then his face pinches.

“I do . . . Have a few last minute points.”

He has everyone’s attention. The rest of the staff, however, look very pleased with themselves.

“To Mr. Harry Potter . . .”

Everyone looks over to the confused Alpha.

≠ “There are all kinds of courage. It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up against our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends. ≠ To break out of the familiar and embrace the new, I award Gryffindor House ten points.”

There’s a smattering applause for Harry. Pansy rolls her eyes at the flimsy excuse to award points.

“To Mr. Harold Hawking . . .”

The Beta sits up straighter.

“For lending his assistance in the midst of chaos and confusion, I award Hufflepuff House fifty points.”

The Hufflepuffs erupt in cheers. Dumbledore raises his hand.

“To Mr. David Toll, who recently departed from our lives from his fall, I solemnly give Ravenclaw House fifty points in his honor.”

There’s a polite applause from all the Houses. Daphne and Beta Tracey glance at Hermione.

“Lastly, to Miss Hermione Mendonica . . .”

There’s a baited breath as the school waits. Dumbledore takes a breath.

“For showing by example not to judge based on appearance alone, and saving the lives of students from other Houses, I award Slytherin House sixty points.”

The echoing dim of the Slytherins’ cheers can be heard all the way in Hogsmeade.

“He still made it about his precious Gryffindors!” Millicent gripe is lost in the din. Dumbledore changes the banners to the green and silver, with the snake emblem showing proudly. All the girls closest to Hermione leap up and clap her on the back.

“We won by forty points!” Draco howls triumphantly from down the table.

— . —

_Made the drinker quickly fall into a deep but temporary sleep_ = Sleeping Draught

_A potion that makes the taker forgetful_ = Forgetfulness Potion

_Lumos Solem_ = Sunlight Charm

_Right of a conqueror to claim territories/possessions taken by force of arms_ = Right of Conquest


	7. Summer Boredom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summer's here, and a long awaited visitor!

Hermione’s House rank elevates from a lowly First year. Now, she’s seen as the next King-in-waiting of Slytherin. The current Sixth year King seems to approve of her strength, although the rumors for the longest time hinted Draco would take over. With the pressure out of the Alpha’s path, he seems to be more relaxed. He even asks Hermione to be the bonder for a Truce-Oath with Harry.

They perform it on the docks of the Black Lake. The Alpha’s clasp hands, Hermione’s wand laying on them.

“I, Alpha Draco Lucius Malfoy, Heir of House Malfoy, do swear to extend and honor a Truce with Harry James Potter, Heir of House Potter, until it is unnecessary.” Draco intones, his face serious.

“I, Alpha Harry James Potter, Heir of House Potter, do swear to extend and honor a Truce with Draco Lucius Malfoy, Heir of House Malfoy, until it is unnecessary.” Harry repeats, magic flaring as the Truce-Oath is sealed.

* * *

The last day of school is upon Hermione and her companions. She idly listens to Harold’s chatter as the First years make their way down to the boats to sail to the Hogsmeade Station. Once on board Hogwarts Express, Hermione takes out her First year Exam results in her compartment.

“Ooh, what did you get?” Daphne asks, leaning against Hermione’s arm. The others; Beta Tracey, Draco, Theodore, Blaise, Vincent, Gregory, Harold, and Neville; quiet down.

“Not bad,” Hermione says, scanning her scores.

First Year Exam Results

_Pass Grades: Fail Grades:_

Outstanding (O)(95%)Poor (P)(75%)

Exceeds Expectations (E)(90) Dreadful (D)(65%)

Acceptable (A)(85%)Troll (T)(45%)

_Hermione Eto Mendonica has received:_

Astronomy100%

Charms 100%

Defense Against the Dark Arts 98%

Flying Pass / <strike>Fail</strike>

Herbology 100%

History of Magic 100%

Potions 100%

Transfiguration 100%

Daphne raises an eyebrow at the numbers, but transitions the conversation to summer plans. Draco takes that as an excuse to regale his adventures at his Manor.

“It’s so big, I once got lost in it!” Draco boasts, and Theodore rolls his eyes.

“Yes Draco, we all know you have the biggest Manor out of all of us,” Theodore drawls, and Draco preens.

“What about you Hermione?” Neville asks from his spot next to Blaise.

“My . . . Mother says our home was named the Mendonica Palace.” Jaws drop slightly, and Draco scowls a bit.

“Palace?” He squawks.

“I suppose, it’s got seven floors, and most of it is built inside a mountain.” Hermione shrugs, and there’s silence.

“Dammit Hermione, you really have it all don’t you?” Beta Tracey sighs dramatically, sagging against Hermione’s right side. When the train pulls to a stop, it’s too fast for Hermione’s taste. Stepping off the train, Err’sh already on the Veela Alfā’s shoulders, Hermione smiles. Eto stands tall with her hands behind her back, not acknowledging the wary stares at her mask and wide berth around her. Beside her is Cobra.

“Eto! Cobra!” Hermione greets warmly, a warm smile greets her. Turning to wave to the others, she sees they’re staring at Eto, transfixed. Daphne recovers first and waves back, her eyes firmly fixed on Hermione. Eto smirks.

“**I like that one,**” She drawls. Cobra bounces happily, taking Hermione’s luggage.

“**Young Mistresss! Cobra’s so very happy that you’s is coming home!**” He squeaks, looking up at her with wide adoring eyes. Hermione tilts her head, a curious thought forming. Eto looks down at them as Hermione couches to Cobra’s level. Locking eyes with him, she connects a link of her magic withs his head.

What is the language that I am speaking now? Hermione squeaks, Cobra’s ears rising high in shock. Eto’s eyebrow raises.

It is Gaëla, Young Mistress, Hermione nods to herself, standing up.

That’s a beautiful name, Hermione squeaks, and Cobra beams up at her.

* * *

Arriving back in the Mendonica Palace in her own room is like a weight lifting from Hermione’s shoulders. Eto squeezes the arm around her shoulders, comfortingly. Err’sh shakes off the feeling of Apparation and glides to her bed. She closes her eyes, breathing in Eto’s calming scent.

“**I have something to tell you later after you’ve settled back in,**” Eto murmurs, slowly pulling away. Hermione stares after her, and Cobra starts to unpack her things. His shrill squeak of alarm has her crouching defensively. Then she sees the shrunken antler nestled in her trunk. A dirty, blood stained antler.

It’s ok Cobra, it just has to cleaned, that’s all, Hermione soothes, and he nods quickly. Hermione waves her hand, levitating it out and the antler pops back into its huge shape. Fortunately, her room has plenty of space for it. Cobra snaps his fingers, cleaning rags appearing and gets to work.

Hermione decides to have it hang just below the ceiling, Cobra using the Mendonica Palace’s magic to secure them in place. Err’sh waddles to the edge of her bed, flapping to the antler, nestling there. Hermione smiles up at him, morphing into her Ancient Chimoretis soul form.

Stretching like a cat, flops on her side, her wings neatly folded on her back. All her front head’s eyes close, leaving her snake head to keep watch. She smirks with her dragon head when she feels the Mendonica Palace shudder, rejoicing in her return. The clicking of heels signal Eto’s arrival, her snake head looking at the woman.

»I take it you’re enjoying this freedom,« Eto says in Velian, smirking. She crouches down, stroking her lion head. Hermione starts purring, feeling safe.

»There’s one last family member you have yet to meet in two days,« Eto murmurs. »He’s been waiting for quite some time,« Hermione morphs back, still lying on her back.

»I thought Veela don’t have sons . . . Or is he an in-law?« Hermione asks in. Eto stares neutrally at her.

»His exact relation to you is known only to him, but I know he is bound to the truth.« Eto says, and Hermione tilts her head. Truth was one of the Mendonica core ideals.

»Does this have to do with meeting the Malfoy’s?« She asks, and Eto smiles, nodding.

»Yes. We are going to meet Bellatrix Black, and she shall take you to him.« Eto says, and Hermione nods.

* * *

Waking up to the Mendonica Palace drawing back her curtains gently brings a content smile to her face.

“**Thanks,**” She whispers, and the Palace shudders a bit. Getting ready for the day, Cobra appears to try and help her dress. Letting him, she walks to the Library entrance on this Wing. Err’sh yawns, gliding after her. He soars into the Library, circling down to the chairs on the Pole Wing floor.

Hermione jumps off the balcony ledge, morphing her wings out. Copying Err’sh, she circles down to where he waits.

*What are we doing here?* He whistles, and Hermione folds her wings.

“**Just relaxing,**” She replies. Going around some of the shelves, she picks out a few books, walking back when she hears the bang of the Library doors opening. Looking around her stack, she yelps when two large orange fluff balls pelt towards her. Her wings flare, flapping over their trajectory, but that doesn’t stop the fluffy creatures.

They swarm up her body, and she shrieks as their claws dig into her skin, dropping the books as she tries to get them off. But by then they’re jumping on top of a book shelf, running away. Two House-Elves follow quickly behind, eyes widening fearfully when they see Hermione hovering in the air. They’re Annie and Claire’s bonded; Cinq and Six.

“**Don’t worry about me—they went that way,**” She points, and the Elves take off in pursuit. She sets down on the ground again, and spots flapping stationary in the air, his feathers all fluffed up.

“**Err’sh?**” She holds out her arm, and he lands on it, settling his feathers.

*Felines,* He sniffs disdainfully. Hermione chuckles. Walking back to the chair, she maneuvers him to her shoulders, picking up the books by hand. Checking each one over, she pauses on one, it having fallen open. On its pages, is a drawing of the Mirror of Erised. Picking up the last three books, she takes the Mirror book, and sits on the floor.

Err’sh hops into her lap as she flips back the beginning of the book.

_ **Alchemy Pursuits ~** _

_ _

_ **The ancient study of alchemy is concerned with making the Philosopher’s Stone (page 533), a legendary substance with astonishing powers. The Stone will transform any metal into pure gold. It also produces the Elixir of Life (page 540).** _

_ **One of the three main goals of alchemy was to create panacea (page 435), a remedy that would cure all diseases and prolong life indefinitely. The creation of the Elixir of Life can be considered to be the success of this goal, and can bring a disembodied soul back to a physical form.** _

Hermione flips to page five-hundred-thirty-three.

_ **The Philosopher’s Stone was an artificial, rufescent stone with magical properties. It could be used to create the Elixir of Life (page 540), which extended the drinker’s lifespan, as well as transform any metal into pure gold. The Stone was created by the over six-hundred year old famed alchemist Alpha Nicolas Flamel (page 382). The Stone was made so Flamel could extend his and his wife’s; Alpha Perenelle Flamel; lifespans for over six centuries.** _

_ **The Stone can turn base metals into gold. Variously described as red and white in the many old texts in which the Stone appears, these colours are important in most accounts of alchemy, and are often interpreted as having symbolic meaning. However due to only one Stone ever having been created, it is unknown if more colors are possible.** _

_ **The Stone’s conception is based on the Resurrection Stone, which brings memories of the dead back. While believed that Gamma Beedle the Bard; who wrote the Tales of the Beedle and the Bard, based the “fictional” Resurrection Stone off of the life-extending Philosopher’s Stone, the reverse is true. Historically for Alchemists, the Philosopher’s Stone was a symbol of achieving perfection, and what is not more perfect than immortal life?** _

_ **While also extending mortal lives past their natural order, the Stone was also believed by Portioners that it could mystically amplify the user’s knowledge of alchemy so much that anything was attainable.** _

Hermione leans back in her chair, flipping to page five-hundred-forty where the drawing of the Mirror of Erised was.

_ **The Elixir of Life grants the drinker an indefinitely extended life, for as long as they keep drinking it. Any person who relies on the Elixir will die if they cannot obtain more Elixir before the last quantity imbibed wears off. But it is theorized that if the Stone was placed in magical “wells”, one such one consistant use of the Mirror of Erised, that those taking the Elixir would not need to constantly remake the Elixir. The Stone and Mirror together would continue to keep the drinker alive.** _

_ **The Elixir also has the ability to somehow reincarnate a disembodied yet earthbound soul, mostly due to the powerful magical, life-based properties. It has been theorized that; if one who has seeped themselves so thoroughly in Black to create a Horcrux, and died; the Elixir could restore a body to them.** _

_ **Although, the Elixir is not without its own limitations. Firstly, it does not make the drinker truly immortal, but only lengthens the lifespan. It is also unknown whether or not the stone halts, reverses or slows ageing, whether or not there is a limit to the amount of Elixir the stone can produce in a time period, and whether or not there are any drawbacks to being reincarnated in this way.** _

_ **Secondly, it is possible that someone who has taken the Elixir may still die of illness or injury.** _

Hermione shuts the book, her mind casting back to the Mirror inside Hogwarts. She knows from Dumbledore’s Chocolate Frog card that he was old friends with Nicolas Flamel. She wonders if Flamel gifted the Philosopher’s Stone to Dumbledore after he wished for death, and kept it in the Mirror.

* * *

In a far distant land, a witch awakes. She was dreaming of lilies in gilded cages while Romans prowled underneath. Sitting up, she looks out her window. Carefully peeling back the covers, she slips out of bed onto her pale-blue carpet. Creeping towards the door, she knows her Daddy is still in the living room right under her room.

Tiptoeing downstairs, she collects her paints, pausing when she sees another garden snake make its way inside. Leaving a few dinner scraps for it, she scampers back upstairs. Setting the paints to the side, the witch wraps her unruly hair into a bun, sticking her wand through it.

Placing a kiss on the photo of her and her Mummy hugging beside her bed, she begins to color on her ceiling. The early morning light starts to light up her room, but she doesn’t stop, not even when excess paint drips on her bed and floor below. The snake from downstairs appears in her room, avoiding the pain splatters. It slithers onto her bed, curling up in the morning warmth.

She smiles down at it, a serene glow on her face. She hears her Daddy get up a little after noon, and hears the front door click shut. She hopes he finds whatever he’s hoping to find. When the creatures around her house start to enter her room, she stops, looking at her creation.

Although the paint is not magical, it seems to breath on its own, as if her paintings are watching over her. Lying on her paint covered bed, the snake ignoring her, she smiles at the eleven faces covering her whole ceiling. They were all different, and some were bigger than others, but it didn’t matter to her. Interwoven between the faces in gold is a single word, repeated over and over.

She runs her fingers through her hair, the brown and red paint she used for the eyes of one face coats the fair strands like blood.

— . —

_Second most powerful magical oath to be at peace with another, oath will scar if broken_ = Truce-Oath

_A potion created from the Philosopher’s Stone that extends the taker’s life_ = Elixir of Life


	8. Summer With Badass Bellatrix Black

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione is introduced to the illustrious Lady B.B. in all her bitc—ahem, glory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh I have to thank my French Great Aunt for helping with the French translations, luv you!

Eto arrives by storm the next day. In the Look Out, Hermione watches as the grey clouds roll across the sky, already covering half of the Colligation. Err’sh is with her, his feathers fluffed up against the rain. Eyes narrowing, Hermione stands straighter, watching as Eto flies closer. Lightning starts flashing, arcing and slicing through the air.

Her eyes widen when she realizes that Eto is in her true Veela form, flying as if she’s dancing. Hermione watches transfixed as Eto courts the lightning, flying so very close to the bolts of electricity. Another dart in the sky grabs Hermione’s attention. A small smile spreads as she watches more Veela fly up to dance in the storm.

A flock of Veela a few years older than her zoom by the Look Out, making Err’sh squawk indignantly. Hermione can only stare. A Veela’s true form is significantly taller than their normal forms, the minimum height sixteen-and-a-half centimeters. With a Veela Alpha, they’re always the tallest, normally reaching over two-point-four meters or so.

She sees Eto fly closer. Large size white-blue scales cover her whole body, downy-grey-feathers protruding from under each one. The larger scales-and-feathers are on her back, the top of her arms, legs, the crest of her ears, and her cheekbones. The smaller and harder scales-and-feathers adorn her chest, an privates. Her wings are the same as ever; majestic and powerful.

In the flimsy, toga-like garb Eto’s wearing, Hermione can see that the wings’ scale-feather run along the shoulder blades down to the back of the hip bone. Eto hovers in front of Hermione, her hair; brighter and a shimmery color of her feathers; whips around, thunder rumbling around them. Her whole body is more avian, from her navy-blue talons and beak, to her dark-grey bird-shaped humanoid hindlegs.

»Fly with me, Petite Présage, [Little Omen,]« Eto purrs, stretching out her hand, her pure-white, black-flecked raptor-eyes staring deep into Hermione’s. Taking it, Hermione’s own wings rip through her shirt, and they take to the air.

* * *

Hermione wakes again with an excited trepidation. After the storm dancing, Eto decided she’s ready to start learning the proper art form of becoming a Wind Whisperer. What that entails, Hermione doesn’t know, but she’s brimming with energy. Although since she couldn’t practice using **_Le Phoque_** [_The Seal_] at Hogwarts, Hermione’s sure Eto will get her back in shape quickly.

Dressing quickly in the clothes Eto set out for her, she lopes to the Dining Hall in her Ancient Chimoretis soul form. Upon arriving, Hermione morphs back, walking towards Eto. The Veela Alfā starts speaking when Hermione stops right in front of her.

»To become a Wind Whisperer, a Veela must be in tune with her own soul, and the magic that surrounds her,« Eto says, circling around Hermione.

»It is why I have only shown you the basic forms of wielding **_Le_ _Phoque_** [_The Seal_], but you have yet to truly understand what magick is.« Eto stops right behind her, placing a hand right between her shoulder blades. She feels the cold, smooth texture of the whip pressed into her hands. Hermione closes her fingers around the handle, and the coils unfurl languorously.

»Close your eyes, breathe, and _feel_.« Hermione obeys, centering her mind, and concentrates on breathing. The first thing she’s completely aware of is her heartbeat, Eto’s presence behind her, and the silence. But that’s quite true, the Mendonica Palace has a breath to it, and the pitter-patter of soft Elf feet ping off the walls.

She can hear Eto’s deep breathing, the confident weight of her hands on her shoulders, the heat the Veela Alfā’s body emits. Then there’s the distant sounds of everyday Colligation noise. Hermione doesn’t know what Eto wants her to sense for, but lets her magic relax, ebbing and flowing naturally.

Now she’s aware of the line of magic flowing through her to **_Le_ _Phoque_** [_The Seal_]. Her magic reaches out around herself, touching Eto’s, and then the Mendonica Palace’s. She can pinpoint where every House-Elf is at this current second. She’s with Err’sh as he raids the kitchen for bones, but then her attention turns to the Crypts entrance in the Library.

The instant her magic touches that wall, she sinks into those dark passages, the way out blocked. She’s the cold drafts soaring through the tunnels, weaving in and out, far into the ground. The Crypts has her in its grasp, refusing to let her go. Then she starts passing openings to the above, and she can sense glimpses of the many Veela above.

Hermione’s breathing starts getting erratic as she’s carried along the ancient, cold magic paths. Suddenly she’s climbing up fast, and is greeted with the image of the Sun Beast Gate, a furious roar directed at her.

Just as she’s thrust upwards, the Crypts’ magic yanks her back in. But The Gate slams down on her, taking her in his massive maw, and rips her from the Crypts’ hold. He roars again, propelling her back up into the air. Hermione only gets a glimpse of the Colligation before her eyes snap open, and she sucks in a huge breath.

She blinks, seeing Eto’s face over hers, her eye pure white and wide. As soon as Eto sees Hermione recognize her, she closes her eye in relief, leaning their foreheads together. Hermione jolts when she realizes there’s a sheen of sweat over her skin. She’s lying on the floor. Around Eto and her, is a perfect sphere of uncracked stone, but everywhere else has thousands of cracks like a web.

The cracks even went up the walls and the ceiling. Hermione looks around in astonishment, and feels the Mendonica Palace shudder, flooding Hermione with the feeling of security and serenity.

»Forgive me Hermione, I should have known the Crypts would seek you out,« Eto murmurs, and she looks up at the powerful Veela. This is the first time she’s ever seen Eto remotely stressed out.

»I won’t touch the Crypts again Eto, I can’t always rely on The Gate saving me,« She swears and Eto takes in a breath. When the Veela Alfā looks up again, she’s back to her usual strong self. As Eto picks up Hermione, she sees the Palace healing itself.

* * *

It’s actually a wonder Eto even takes to visit the Malfoy’s after her accidental magic nearly wrecked the Dining Hall yesterday. Cobra tidies her room while she waits for Eto. Err’sh yawns on her shoulders, and Hermione idly listens to Cobra’s chatter. The twins’ Elves were picking up mail from the Dead Drop when their Familiar’s hitched a ride, then used their own brand of magic to run amok in the Palace.

Of course the twins would pick Half-Kneazle brothers and name them Crookshanks and Shankscrook. Shaking herself of the thoughts as Eto arrives, they Side-Apparate away.

* * *

They appear in front of a pair of tall wrought-iron gates. Behind them is the gravel driveway leading up to the gates, a hedge tracing the side of it. Cobra squeaks when he sees an Albino Peacock strut on the top of the yew hedge. The gate groans, the iron twisting into a gender neutral face.

“What is your purpose in entering Malfoy Manor?!” The face demands, Hermione blinks at the strange magic.

“Gueztz for a cup of tea.” Eto replies to the gate. The face twists as it thinks. Then it nods.

“You may enter!” It yells, and the face dissolves back into iron. Eto strides forwards, pulling Hermione forwards as they walk through the gates as if they were smoke. As they walk up the path to the Manor, Hermione looks around at the grounds. It’s grand, and vast, claiming many acres of land.

Everywhere she can see, all species of trees and vegetation grow, exotic animals appearing here and there. There’s a garden with a fountain in the middle. The building itself is ≠ a handsome manor house, ≠ with ≠ lights glinting in the diamond-paned downstairs windows. ≠ Somewhere on the grounds Hermione can hear music playing. They stop by the imposing wooden doors.

They don’t have to knock; the doors swing inwardly by themselves. A dirty looking House-Elf stands on the other side to greet them. Hermione scrunches up her eyebrows at the sight of him, weary eyes and dirty rag and all. He wilts under her gaze, and she can feel Cobra incredulousness.

“Dobby will lead you to the Drawing Room,” The House-Elf squeaks, bowing as he opens the door. They stride through, Cobra disappears to where the other House-Elves go. Err’sh flaps after Dobby, and they follow. ≠ The hallway is large, dimly lit, and sumptuously decorated, with a magnificent carpet covering most of the stone floor. ≠

Hermione eyes the ≠ pale-faced portraits on the walls ≠ as they scrutinize them. None utter a sound, but their eyes linger on the Mendonica pair. ≠ At the end of the hall is the bronze-handled door to the Drawing Room. It’s a widely proportioned room. ≠ Hermione guesses it’s the grandest, since it’s the first room guests see.

The ceiling is at least nine meters tall, with ≠ two chandeliers, and a pipe organ at one end. ≠ At the far end of the room, ≠ is an ornate marble mantelpiece with a gilded mirror which has an intricately scrolled frame on top. The dark purple walls—covered by more portraits—and large crystal chandeliers bath the long, ornate table in the middle of the room.

Positioned at the table, are the Malfoy’s and one Bellatrix Black. Lord Malfoy sits at the head, Draco to his left, and Lady Malfoy on his right. Err’sh stands on the table, his talons making markings on the fine wood. She stares at Lady Malfoy again, Hermione’s attention getting snagged on the Veela likeness of the Omega. Then there’s Bellatrix, whose leaning slumped against the mantelpiece.

Lord Malfoy rises, and Hermione can smell his Alpha pheromones all the way from here. She hides a scowl; he’s not even trying to reign himself in. Lady Malfoy stands as well, hands clasped in front of her and her posture meek yet strong. She looks nothing like the Omega who stared down Eto in Madam Malkin’s.

“Madame Mendonica, I welcome you to Malfoy Manor, I hope your travels were uneventful?” Lord Malfoy says smoothly, walking around the table to shake Eto’s hand. She takes it in an unhurried manner, staring at him with her one eye. Hermione watches him as he struggles to hold his gaze, and his eyes drop to Eto’s chin. She half-heartedly holds in a smirk.

“Nothing out of ordinary, Lord Malfoy. Might I introduze my youngest daughter, Hermione,” Eto places a hand on her back, and Hermione takes a step forwards. She shakes his hand, raises her arm. Err’sh flaps to her arm, leaving divots in the table, and Lady Malfoy’s fingers twitch. Hermione strokes Err’sh’s chest feathers.

“This is Err’sh.” She says, the Lammergeier staring down his beak at Lord Malfoy.

“Yes, of course, why don’t you sit down. Bellatrix, why don’t you sit as well and not be a wallflower?” The Alpha glares, opting to stick to the shadows.

“This is my lady wife, Narcissa, and my heir, Draco. I’m sure you two know each other from school,” Lord Malfoy says. Narcissa smiles at them, but Hermione can see in her eyes it’s just a mask. She only has eyes for Eto.

“Ah yez, your son iz indeed lovely,” Eto smirks, something dark shining behind her eye.Eto chooses to sit next to Narcissa, and Hermione next to Draco.

“Elf! fetch us some tea,” Lord Malfoy orders sharply, and Dobby pops away.

“Draco, why don’t you show your friend around,” Narcissa says with a pretty smile, and he hurries to obey. Hermione follows him out of the Drawing Room through another door, hearing oh-so soft footsteps behind them. Draco leads her through a corridor to a grand entrance hall. It has double stairs curving around to the second floor.

“Merlin Hermione, you Mum is one scary witch,” Draco says once they’re on the second floor.

“I know,” She says proudly, and he looks up at her warily.

“Do you know what they’re talking about?” He asks as they enter a tea room.

“Yes,” She says, catching a shadow slide across the floor. Bellatrix's scent of cinnamon and spicy fire wafts from outside the room.

“Well, it must be important. Mother always gets that face when Aunt Bella comes over for the Ministry.”

“Does she visit often?” She asks, and he shakes his head.

“Not like she used to, now I see her here for Ministry business.” Draco sighs, his body tense. She sees the shadow slide further away.

“Usually Aunt Bella drags Mother to the Library to discuss things.” He continues, and Hermione hums. They hear a crash sound downstairs, and Draco looks worried. Suddenly they both smell Lord Malfoy’s Alpha musk permeating through the halls. Draco whimpers and crumples against Hermione, and she holds her nose, growling.

She can’t smell a whiff of Eto’s Alfā scent. Bellatrix snarls, and she storms into the room, her Alpha presence filling the room. Instantly, Draco gasps, shuddering as Bellatrix purges Lord Malfoy from the room. Crouching in front of them, Bellatrix’s hard black eyes soften when they gaze upon Draco.

“That’s it Dragonet, breathe,” She soothes, and Draco obeys. Suddenly there’s a blast of Eto’s Alfā pheromones surging out like a tidal wave. It makes Hermione shoot to her feet, Draco whimper again, and Bellatrix gasp. Just as soon as it flares, it’s gone again, no overbearing Alpha presence anywhere in the Manor. Even Bellatrix’s is gone.

Bellatrix straightens her spine imperiously, pulling a limp Draco with her. The Alpha is shockingly shorter than the pictures portray, only one-hundred-fifty-eight centimeters. But her presence makes her seem bigger, fiercer, and more commanding. She’s wearing her signature long sleeve, floor length, black dress with the matching black corset on the outside

Eto appears in the doorway, looking impeccable as ever, her eye locking down on Bellatrix. Even though the shorter Alpha has to crane her neck to look at Eto, she doesn’t falter like her brother-in-law.

“Bellatriz Black, I believe you and I have an appointment planned,” Eto drawls.


	9. Summer With The Conqueror Concealed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drum roll for one of the hardest characters for me to write . . . Alpha Gellert Grindelwald!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FWI my school starts this Wednesday, so I'll try my best to get my uploads up on time if I can.

Hermione and Eto wait in another tea room while Bellatrix goes to collect proper documents from the Ministry. Lord Malfoy was properly fuming when he realized that the two Alpha women had already made a deal and were just entertaining his notion of control. Draco and Narcissa sit across from them, quietly sipping their tea. Cobra serves Eto and Hermione.

The silence is oppressive, and Hermione can feel shadows moving in the walls. It’s grating on her magic. Eto slowly glances at her, and then starts singing to her in Velian. She blinks, sitting up. Err’sh shifts in her lap, preening his chest feathers. There are no words, just a beautiful melody echoing through their connection.

Eto continues to sing, and Hermione’s body naturally starts swaying to the melody. Narcissa looks up, eyes narrowing as the two Veela share a secretive smile. Everyone hears Bellatrix’s entrance, as the slam of the front doors shake the Manor. Eto takes another sip of tea, and Cobra appears with a thick wool cloak. Hermione takes it, shrugging it on.

Bellatrix appears in the doorway, ignoring her family. The Alpha looks up and down, those signature Black eyes guarded. She huffs.

“Hurry up,” She snaps, pivoting on her high heels and storming back down the hall. Hermione wonders what got her in such a foul mood. Perhaps Eto. Picking up Err’sh, she wraps him in her cloak, trotting after the Alpha.

“We do this in and out, no lingering.” Bellatrix orders, and she transfigures herself a thick cloak. Exiting the Manor, they walk the straight path lit by torches in the darkness, and then through the gate. Err’sh sneezes, and Bellatrix whirls on Hermione.

“You brought your Familiar?!” She growls. Hermione raises her eyebrow, holding Err’sh close. She’s not going to meet someone who claims to be her family without Familiar support.

“Fine—just hold onto it tight.” Bellatrix snaps, grabbing Hermione’s arm and Side-Apparating. The cold smacks her in the face. They reappear on the steps of a towering fortress of a castle built straight from the Austrian Alps itself. They both tug their cloaks tight against themselves at the howling winds.

Over the entrance, the infamous slogan “_For the Greater Good_” is carved into the black rock.

“Let us in before our tits freeze off!” Bellatrix snaps at the castle, and the giant metal doors open soundlessly. They hurry in, the doors sliding shut with a click behind them. The inside is just as gigantic as the outside, but empty. There are the standard appliances here and there, a rug for their shoes to walk on.

But no pictures, no personal touches, no guards, and no sounds. In the eerie still silence, Hermione can hear every little thing.

“No other prisoners are here, and no one is allowed to guard him. He’s persuaded too many wizards and witches to his side that way,” Bellatrix whispers, the sound of it echoing like a resounding hiss. They start walking, Bellatrix leading the way.

“The castle’s magic keeps him in, but it’s also likely to tell him things as well.” Bellatrix continues, they taking the stairs.

“So he knows we’re here?” Hermione asks, squashing down the urge to ask who he is.

“Oh he definitely knows,” Bellatrix says with unwavering certainty. Climbing higher, Hermione can see that they’re in the highest tower of the castle. Nearing the end, a single short hall leads to a dead end. Bellatrix stops by the stairs, motioning Hermione forwards.

“Remember; _the location of Gellert Grindlewald’s cell is in the highest tower of Nurmengard Castle_.” Bellatrix says, and a door materializes at the end of the hall. It’s a _Fidelius_ _Charm_. Hermione’s eyes widen at the name of the Dark Lord, and she opens the cell door.

* * *

Inside, there’s only a hard bed with a thin blanket, a small window, and a slumped man sitting under the window. He’s a far cry from the pictures of his days of freedom, haggard, many wrinkles, and bald. But his bright eyes shine sharply, watching her every move. His right is bright blue, and the left is black rimmed with a white iris.

“Come child, sit,” The Alpha beckons with a raspy voice. He sounds fatherly in a way, and Hermione can feel his magic around her. Err’sh peeks out from under her cloak, and the Dark Lord, Alpha Gellert Grindelwald grins at the sight. Nevertheless, she sits in front of him. He closes his eyes, resting his head against the cold stone, an amused smile gracing his face.

“You came to know the truth, did you not?” He asks, and Hermione nods slowly. She shrugs off her cloak, holding her arms loosely around Err’sh. He stares hard at Gellert.

“Who are you to me? Eto said that you said you were bound to the truth,” Hermione asks, and at this Gellert laughs.

“What else did this Eto tell you?” He asks, and Hermione wavers, unsure.

“That you claimed to be my relative,” At this his eyes snap open, a mirthful joy in them.

“Oh but I am, you are my Great-Granddaughter.” He smiles at her, and she feels his magic encircle around her and Err’sh. She instinctively pushes out with her own magic, and his smile gets wider.

“I wished to pass on my legacy to continue my cause, and so I found a highborn German Pureblood who was entranced with the idea of . . . _Freedom_,” He starts in a low tone. Hermione leans, his voice so captivating to listen to. Err’sh’s talons start to dig into her legs.

“Her name, was Thekla von Albus, and I saw her potential for greatness, something her family did not,” He chuckles. “She was away with her family when she conceived, dying to bring my daughter into this trapped world. I never saw her for the longest time, but I heard of her name on the winds,” Gellert pauses, his eyes on Hermione.

“_Gaia_,” The cell seems to shiver with the reverence behind the name. Hermione feels a tingle go up her spine.

“The Albus’ raised Gaia away from me, hiding—_my heir._” Power lashes out at those two words, and Hermione flinches when she feels the undercurrent rage.

“Did you find them?” Hermione whispers, seeing the story unfurl from masterful threads. Gellert smiles a smile full of sharp teeth.

“I did. Thekla’s father had chosen to turn himself into a Squib, erasing his memories of the Wizarding world,” Hermione gasps at the horror of that.

“_Yes_, the depravity of cowards attempting to save their broken world,” Gellert says sympathetically, reaching out to cup her cheek. Err’sh fluffs up, but doesn’t do anything.

“But there’s more,” He says, dropping his hand.

“Gaia came to me once, to tell me she was with child, from a Muggle,” He whispers.

“This Muggle was called John Granger,” Hermione’s mind seizes, and she cries out as black, purple, and red colors crowd her mind. There’s the man’s maniacal, shrill laughter, and the soothing melody. Hermione doesn’t register Err’sh’s whistle-screaming, but suddenly two cold hands hold her head in a tight grip.

Heady, thick magic rushes through her, and she gasps.Gellert leans over her, his eyes wide with wonder. She vaguely realizes she’s sprawled on the cell floor, Err’sh crooning and trilling to her comfortingly. She blinks, her mind pain free, and the colors gone.

“That’s how you survived,” he breathes, and leans their foreheads together.

“My Gaia married that Muggle, and bore a Squib son, named after the father. That son later married a very, very special young woman.” The white in his right eye seems to grow larger.

“And they had you,” He looks up at Err’sh, stroking the Lammergeier’s head.

“I knew there would be a day when you would come, seeking answers,” He caresses her face with bony knuckles, leaning up so he can push her hair away from her sweaty face.

“My legacy lies in you, but so does others, this I can see . . . But whom shall you choose?” Gellert asks, his voice changing, firmer now. It’s almost like remembering has brought back a bit of his strength. Hermione doesn’t know what he’s talking about.

“Others?”

Gellert tilts his head.

“You have been tied down, strings wrapped so tightly around you. To be free, you must share the lines of your choosing.” He says cryptically, and Hermione finds herself nodding.

“Leave me for now, the Black Warrior is waiting,” Gellert leans back, going back to his position under the window. Standing, Hermione picks up Err’sh, walking stiffly to the door, her muscles cramped. Pausing, she looks back at him. Then she opens the door, the castle sealing it behind her. Blinking at the sudden bright light, she sees Bellatrix pacing.

“What did he do to you?!” The Alpha barks, eyes checking her over.

“Never mind—we don’t have time!” She growls, grabbing Hermione’s wrist. Bellatrix pulls Hermione through the castle in a rush, new furniture that wasn’t there before in their way.

“What’s going on?” Hermione looks out a window, the brilliant light reflecting off the snow. She couldn’t have spoken to Gellert the whole day, could she?

“Shut up!” Bellatrix snaps, both of them flying through the gigantic structure. Putting on a burst of speed, they dash through the closing doors, the biting cold hitting them. Looking up at Nurmengard Castle, the winds moan harder, and Hermione feels them pushing her back towards the warmth of the castle.

“Shut your damn doors!” Bellatrix yells at the castle, and it obeys. Turning to Hermione with a glare, the woman snarls.

“Great, now the castle wants to keep you,” She mutters, Side-Apparating them away.

* * *

Hermione and Eto stay the rest of the day in Malfoy Manor. Lord Malfoy sulks and simmers whenever he sees Eto, Narcissa opts for glaring, Bellatrix’s just more pissed off, and Draco’s confused by the sudden change. A little bit before they leave, Dobby visits her.

“Young Miss, you’s must be careful! Master is planning against you’s!” Hermione accepts his warning, and sends him away. When they leave, Hermione gives Draco an one-armed hug. Behind her back, Eto blue eye burns down at him, and he gulps.

Bellatrix escorts them off the grounds, trying to glare a hole into Eto’s head. They pass through the gates, the Alpha turns on Eto, her infamous crooked wand aimed at Eto’s eye. Hermione steps close of Eto, her hands twitching. Err’sh bristles.

“I make no promises Mendonica, but I don’t ever want you near my sister and her son again.” Bellatrix snarls. Hermione hears Eto snicker. Err’sh clacks his beak threatening.

“Of courze Bellatriz, let me know when you can,” Eto drawls, then hands a letter to Hermione. A snap of her fingers, and a trunk and Cobra are next to her. With that, Eto takes Cobra, and Disapparates. Bellatrix blinks, shocked that Eto would leave Hermione. She looks down at the letter, seeing the first set of instructions.

“Lady Black, may you take me to the Weasley’s residence?” She asks, and the Alpha curses under her breath.

* * *

Hermione first feels the magical warding. Then sees a stack of giant blocks mashed together just beyond the low wooden gate. Bellatrix sneers, and Disapparates. Looking around, Hermione sees three more houses in the distance, one looking like a Rook piece for Wizard Chess.

The Weasley house was obviously a large, stone pigpen before seven extra rooms were added hazardously on top, the whole structure crooked and held up by magic. Five chimneys were perched on top of the seventh floor, and a lopsided sign posted into the ground near the front yard read, “_The Burrow_”.

It’s not the lesser Manor in which she expected.

Pushing open the gate, she levitates her trunk with a wave of her hand. Carrying Err’sh, she stands in front of the main door, she knocks. Opening the letter, she quickly scans Lord and Lady Weasley’s invite to visit for the summer. She waits, and then knocks again, this time it opening.

It’s a young girl, with the same fiery red hair, light-brown eyes, and freckles dusting her face. It’s Ron’s only sister, Alpha Ginny Weasley. She looks up at Hermione in surprise, her eyes latching on Err’sh.

“May we come in?” Hermione asks after the Alpha doesn’t move from her staring.

“Oh! Of course!” She jumps out of the way, letting Hermione enter. There’s evidence of magically imbued objects, and she sees a car through the door to the garage before Ginny runs and shuts it. Inside is even more crowded on the inside than from outside appearance alone. Err’sh hunkers himself down as she walks carefully through the kitchen.

In the living room, she sets her trunk on the couch, it bouncing dust into the air. A strange clock catches her eye. Walking over to it closer, she sees that the hands are all spoons with each family member on it. Each spoon is pointing to the dial of “_home_”, the rest of the dials read “_school_”, “_work_”, “_travelling_”, “_lost_”, “_hospital_”, “_prison_”, and “_mortal peril_”.

Sniffing the clock, Hermione can smell faint traces of blood on the spoons.

“Er, Harry is bunking with Ron, so you can share with me, since Charlie or Bill’s old rooms are disgusting,” Ginny says awkwardly. Hermione gives her an easy smile.

“Alright.”

* * *

A startled yell and a book hitting her stomach jolts Hermione awake. Leaping up, Err’sh whistles shrilly, flapping into the air. She swings her pillow hard, hitting a face. She hears the pained cry and thud as they fall.

“Whoah! Hermione! Cease fire! It’s us! Cease fire!” Harry yelps, leaping away with his hands raised. Hermione blinks, and her growling stops. She looks down, where Ron is curled up, moaning and holding his bloody nose. Fred and George peer nervously through the doorway. Ginny’s also up, breathing hard.

“When did you—you broke Ron’s nose with a _pillow_—_why_ are you in Ginny’s room?!” Harry settles on that question. Hermione sighs, running her fingers through her hair. Tossing the pillow down, she sees the visible relief from the boys.

“She offered.” Hermione responds with a yawn, sitting down on her makeshift bed on the floor.

“_BOYS!_”

— . —

_Fidelius_ = Concealing Secret Charm


	10. Summer End With Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione visits the Weasley's/Potter's/Greengrass's

Everyone jumps when they hear the ear piercing scream from below them.

“_IF I FIND THAT YOU PRANKED YOUR SISTER, MERLIN HELP ME YOU WILL BE DE-GNOMING THE GARDEN UNTIL YOU’RE OLD!_”

“Oh Mum’s going to kill us,” Ron whimpers from the floor, and even the twins look fearful. Hermione crouches down by him, and fixes his nose with a snap of her fingers. After dressing, they all race downstairs, Hermione leading as she strides towards a shocked Alpha Molly Weasley.

She’s plump looking, wearing an apron, her frizzy hair out and about, and just a half a head shorter than the twins. In one fluid motion, Hermione bows to Molly respectfully.

“Pardons and greetings Lady Weasley, I am delighted to have the honor of meeting you, but I regret that it is not under more civil circumstances,” Hermione drawls, channeling Eto and her lessons on etiquette. Straightening, she sees that the Alpha’s mouth keeps opening and closing, her eyes wide.

After a moment, she snaps her jaw shut, but a little blush remains.

“Nonsense child, you’re welcome here anytime, say, how do you feel about having your face on a spoon?” Molly asks, and Hermione merely smiles politely.

“I’m afraid I have to decline, I must ask my Mother for permission if I would have my likeness grace a household.” Hermione evades.

“I see, tea dear?” Molly asks undeterred.

“I would love some Lady Weasley,” Hermione replies sweetly, walking past the shell-shocked others into the kitchen.

“Oh enough with the ‘Lady Weasley’, you may call me Molly—same goes for you too Harry dear,” Molly says, seating Hermione at the table. Hermione turns to the others, beckoning them over.

“Breakfast time, Molly is making something delicious,” Hermione keeps her smirk hidden. Having Molly like her will be easier to avoid the infamous Weasley temper just showcased a few minutes ago. Honestly it’s a little surprising she hasn’t been kicked out of the house for being a Slytherin. After all Ron had to get his previous prejudice from somewhere.

Breakfast is served; sausages and eggs. It’s decent, too greasy for Hermione’s taste, but she eats it anyway. Ginny claims a seat next to her, glancing at her when she thinks Hermione isn’t looking. It reminds her of the Puffling’s adoration, and she hopes the Alpha is a little more mature.

As they finish the meal, Molly shoos them out to de-Gnome the garden. Standing to the side, she watches as a competition of who can throw a Gnome the furthest begins. Ginny comes back to stand with her.

“You know Mum really likes you now,” Ginny says bluntly.

“Oh?” Hermione murmurs, smug.

“Yeah, she didn’t like you at first, but Dad said you were French, so that settled it. Mum was worried that another Sirius Black might happen. Dunno why, Uncle Sirius is cool.” They both turn when they hear the front door opening.

“It’s Dad—come on Hermione—you’ll like him!” Ginny squeals, grabbing her hand and dragging her into the Burrow. Needless to say, she charms the Beta Lord Arthur Weasley much easier than Molly. She only mentions that she knows how most of the things in his garage work and he’s hooked. He’s a frumpy looking, thin Beta, with threadbare red hair.

He keeps her in his garage, listening rapidly and writing down notes as she explains the many objects, showing him. At one point, he stops, puzzled.

“If you don’t mind me asking, but how do you know all this?” He asks. Hermione shrugs.

“I lived in a Muggle town before I had to move,” She says. He’s so happy at the end, he even lets her test out his flying car, the twins shouting the injustice of it all. Getting into the car with Arthur, she runs her hands along the steering wheel. Even though she hasn’t driven in her life, Arthur bouncing in his seat and memories of riding in a car encourage her. Slowly driving forwards out of the garage, she doesn’t look over at Arthur.

Taking a breath, she slams the pedal to the metal, the car lurching forwards. It rockets straight, but Hermione yanks the steering wheel towards her, and it serves up, the rest of the Weasleys and Harry cheering. Giving a few practice turns in the air, she lands a bit roughly, leaving tire marks in the grass.

* * *

_Eto,_

_I pray your scales and feathers are healthy._

_I have accepted the Potter’s and Greengrass’s invites for the summer, so I will only be back home for a few days before term starts. Currently at the Weasley house, it’s been a loud, hectic two weeks with completely no privacy whatsoever. I’m sharing a room with the youngest Alpha and only girl; Ginny; who’s crass, vivacious, and louder than her siblings. I will contact you again when I am at the Potter’s._

_Love,_

_H. E. Mendonica_

_(Her seal, a giant serpent devouring a terrified human figure)_

* * *

Hermione shifts in the Library chair, getting comfortable in the Potter Manor. She fingers her ancestor’s necklace, thinking of Ginny. The young Alpha is definitely her favorite out of all the Weasley’s. Ginny’s spunkiness and strive to claw her way out of her older sibling’s shadows makes her stand out. Charlie is her second favorite because he works with Dragons.

Idly, she wonders if Ginny would accept Hermione’s gift and compensation to her. Err’sh’s talons did ruin most of the smooth walls and floorboards with marks. Pushed under Ginny’s pillow, she hid a pouch of enough galleons to pay for all a First year’s Hogwarts supplies and then some, and a note explaining its purpose.

* * *

Hermione decides she likes the Potter’s much better than the Weasley’s. She and Err’sh took the Floo Network to get there, and at once Alpha’s Lord James and Lady Lily Potter are there to greet them warmly. Alpha Sirius Black, James’ brother all but in blood, is an annoying, rich flirt with a penchant for severe pranking, and bouts of rage.

He puts her on edge, which is the opposite of shabby looking Alpha Remus Lupin. Which is odd, because he’s a Werewolf, and with her track record, she ought to be more wary of him. But unlike the other Werewolves, his scent is muted, more like a sick dog. She can tell he’s been at war with his inner wolf for decades, and dour personality to his affliction can be grating.

On a full moon night, she watches from her window as he rumps around in the forest with a large black dog and a stag. The next morning, she sees Sirius plucking leaves from his hair, and Lily combing her fingers through James’. Hermione stops herself from rolling her eyes.

It’s like they’re not even _trying_ to hide the fact that Remus is a Werewolf. When she gets Daphne’s Portkey to her Manor, Hermione leaves the house full of Alphas with poor secret keeping abilities.

* * *

Arriving in front of a large French style chateau, she knocks on the front door. A House-Elf opens the door, looking her up and down.

“You’s be Young Miss Mendonica?” She asks.

“I am.” Hermione states. The Elf nods, and welcomes her in.

“Yakyak’s here to serve Young Miss,” Yakyak squeaks, leading Hermione from the foyer, into the dining room. Everything is elegant, glass sculptures and decorations littered around. It makes the chateau sparkle and fill the air with life. Hermione stands near the table. Hearing footsteps, she sees Daphne, who gives her a wide smile.

“Hermione! You’re here!” She rushes over and gives her a hug. Hermione holds her awkwardly, a little unused to the now confident touchiness. Err’sh flaps onto the table, his head on a swivel.

“Daphne? Has Hermione arrived?” A woman calls distantly, and Daphne turns over her shoulder.

“Yes Mother! Where’s Father?” Omega Lady Greengrass comes around the corner, looking like the High Elves Hermione’s read in _The Hobbit_. Lady Greengrass’s brilliant grass-green eyes soften when she sees Hermione. They all hear more footsteps, a young girl shooting into the room, slamming into Daphne’s legs.

“Let’s play!” The young Alpha chirps, and at the same time, three more voices speak.

“Not now Astoria, I have a friend over!”

“Daughter, please restrain yourself,”

“Ladies! What’s all this noise?!” An Alpha presence starts to rise, then falls. Hermione looks past Lady Greengrass to see Lord Greengrass. His dark-green eyes lock on Hermione.

“Mother, Father, this is Hermione Mendonica, Hermione, this is Lord Edward and Lady Elainar Greengrass.” Daphne says. Edward tilts his head, thinking, while Elainar shifts into full mother mode.

“Come here dear, let’s get your room prepared,” She says, and Hermione follows her.

* * *

After a blissfully hot shower, she hits the bed. It only seems like minutes to Hermione, but she’s woken up by something jumping next to her. She jolts up, eyes landing on Err’sh, who perched on the top of her cabinet. The morning light suggests it’s midday.

“Are you feeling better?!” A high pitched voice asks, and Hermione sees Astoria sitting on the foot of her bed. She sighs, rubbing the sleep away.

“Yes.” She grunts, and the young Alpha smiles brightly.

“Great! Now we can play!” Astoria jumps up and down.

“_ASTORIA!_” The young Alpha flinches, diving under Hermione’s arm and nestling against her side. It seems that the Greengrass subtly passed a generation. Daphne stands in the open doorway, hands on her hips.

“What are you doing here? Mother and Father _specifically_ told you not to disturb Hermione!” The young Alpha huffs snootily.

“She wanted to play.” Hermione says, amused. Daphne fumes, but Astoria doesn’t go. Heading downstairs, she looks up at Hermione, her dark-green eyes shining. In Astoria’s left eye, there’s a large white spot in it. The girl ducks her head, her white-blond hair falling around her face. The young Alpha smells like Ivy peppermint.

They sit down at the table, Astoria hopping up onto Hermione’s lap.

“Astoria,” Daphne sighs, but the young Alpha just shakes her head.

“It’s fine, ma Tigresse. [my Tigress.]” Hermione says smoothly, and Daphne blushes. Astoria looks up at Hermione, eyes wide.

“Can I get to a French nickname? Can I, can I?!” She bounces in Hermione’s lap, staring intensely up at her. Hermione smiles, tapping Astoria on her nose.

“Of course, ma Louvre, [my Wolf,]” The young Alpha squeals with delight, while Daphne pales. The adult Greengrasses arrive, and breakfast is concluded. Out in the lawn, Astoria persuades Daphne to play Exploding Snap. Hermione merely peers out the Dining Room window, and Astoria looks up, waving.

The young Alpha’s sense of smell must be incredibly sharp to smell her in here. Exiting the Chateau, Hermione walks up to them, Astoria pulling her down next to her.

“Daphne said you had the most beautiful eyes—Eek!” Daphne’s hand slams over her sister’s mouth, her cheeks red. Hermione raises an eyebrow.

“Oh?” She snickers, enjoying how the red darkens on Daphne’s cheeks. Astoria pushes Daphne’s hand off her mouth.

“Yeah—but I like your hair the best!” Astoria starts playing with Hermione’s locks.

“Daphne thinks so too!” Her giggles follow a very red Daphne looking anywhere but at her.

* * *

Staying at the Greengrass’s is an interesting experience. They’re neutral, and their lifestyle reflects that. As Hermione spends more time with Astoria, the young Alpha starts to grow on her. There’s a spark that Hermione doesn’t want to be extinguished in her, and Daphne sees it too. The Beta always keeps a careful eye on Astoria, her sisterly protectiveness high.

Err’sh, also seems to take to the Greengrass’s very well, their owls putting up with him enough that he roosts with them in the owlery. While Daphne’s still wary and respectful of Err’sh, one look and Astoria wanted to carry him everywhere with her. But when Astoria gets too much to handle, she and Daphne retire to the roof of the East Wing.

“Mio, look,” Daphne points to the night sky. Astoria was the one to come up with the shortened name. Among the stars, is a shooting star.

“Make a wish!” Daphne urges, and Hermione does.

* * *

Very soon, the time to floo to Diagon Alley approaches, and Astoria starts as a First year this term. Stepping out of the green fire, she strides out into the Alley, the crowds thick with parents, children, and other pedestrians.

Daphne snakes her hand into Hermione’s, while Astoria looks around with awe and a bit of trepidation. Edward leans over to speak to them over the noise. He takes Astoria’s hand.

“Your mother and I shall buy Astoria’s things, you and Hermione can go collect your things and then meet us at Flourish and Blotts!” He orders, and they split.

“Come on Mio! Alpha Gilderoy Lockhart is supposed to be here!” Daphne cries giddily, much to Hermione’s annoyance. They weave through the crowd, heading further towards the thickest throng. Hermione scowls, remembering his name for all her books. Every title sounds ridiculous and having a single author for the textbooks only means learning his bias.

At the entrance of Flourish and Blotts, a long line of witches stand, a tired wizard trying to maintain order. Daphne squeals, trying to look over heads to see. Narrowing her eyes at the Beta, a strange feeling tickles in the back of her mind, and she jerks towards the stairs.

Daphne, still holding her hand yelps as she’s hauled up the stairs, her protests ignored. On the second floor, Hermione releases Daphne.

“Hermione! What in Merlin’s name was that for?!” Daphne snaps, rubbing her wrist. Hermione merely hisses softly, looking at the poster of _him_. It’s a large picture of a blond, blue eyed, overly smiling man. It winks at Daphne. Below it, in large, dramatic words;

≠ GILDEROY LOCKHART

Will be singing copies of his autobiography

_MAGICAL ME_

Today 12:30 p.m to 4:30 p.m ≠

Hermione scowls even more at it, as she hears Daphne fangirl over him, referencing the article _Witch Weekly_. Hermione sniffs, subtly flicking her fingers towards the poster, and it burns. She ignores Daphne’s scandalous gasp.

“Hermione? Daphne? I didn’t know you two were here,” Draco’s voice sounds behind them. He saunters towards them, pausing when he sees ash flakes on the floor.

“Nice, I’ve been wanting to do that myself,” He says to Hermione, and Daphne scoffs.


	11. Summer Au Clair De La Lune

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the moonlight, Hermione meets the Moon

“Have you bought all your books?” Hermione replies smoothly, walking past a stunned Daphne to walk with Draco. He leads them towards his table in another room.

“Oh yes, I did,” He sneers. “I actually _want_ to read _Standard Book of Spells, Grade Two_ by Miranda Goshawk now,” He gestures to his pile of books, and Daphne’s eyes light up. Draco notices right away.

“Oh Merlin not you too!” He groans. Daphne shoots him a glare, crossing her arms.

“Not me what Draco? Care to share?” She grouches. Draco sends Hermione a pleading look.

“Don’t tell me you’re stupidly infatuated with him too?!” Hermione sneers at the thought.

“I have higher standards.” Hermione sniffs, and Draco sighs, relieved. Daphne however, looks conflicted, but nonetheless still peeved.

“Thank Merlin, I think you’re about the only girl who _doesn’t_ like him—oh hey do you want to go to the Quidditch store?” And just like that, the moment is over, and the trio are back to their usual stances, although Hermione and Draco have to physically haul Daphne away.

* * *

Walking towards the Quidditch store, Hermione senses something latch onto her. Turning her head, she looks at the entrance to Knockturn Alley. Tapping Daphne and Draco, she tilts her head towards it. Daphne pales while Draco tries to mask his hesitation.

“What do you have to do in _there?_” Daphne whispers softly, her eyes darting around. Hermione puts a finger to her lips, winking. Turning, she easily slips into the Alley without anyone noticing. The pull is similar to the magic she felt in Nurmengard Castle. She hears them hurry to her sides. Stalking through the Alley, she ignores the shady figures, eyeing the shops.

Stepping into one, Borgin and Burkes, she ignores the shopkeeper, Mr. Borgin.

“I’ve been here before, Father was selling some things,” Draco whispers.

“Ministry questionables?” Daphne says dryly, Draco nodding. He eyes a withered hand, but doesn’t touch it. Walking around a black cabinet, Hermione pauses, hearing a soft, alluring melody. Venturing deeper into the store, she sees a cracked box, a soft glow immuring from it. The melody swirls around her, dancing over her skin.

Opening the box, she finds a skull.

* * *

Holding it,Hermione’s surprised that it still has significant weight. It’s beautiful, with a long braided tube with a mouth rubber mouth-piece at the end. A giant hole rests on the skull’s right side, and right next that is Gellert Grindelwald’s army sign. Under the sign, are the German words: **Für das Größere Wohl** [For the Greater Good].

Under that, is the date: 1898. Twin flowers cross under the words. Hermione strokes the skull, the melody settling around her. This belonged to Gellert, her _blood family_. Closing her eyes, Hermione tunes into the magic around her, her eyes fluttering. She keeps her own magic controlled within her. No need to repeat the mishap from before here.

A fierce, yellow swirl appears in front of her, forming the shape of the skull. A nasty little string of red magic floats around the skull, anchoring to it’s magic and flowing back towards the counter where Mr. Borgin waits. Hermione turns around, keeping her eyes closed as she sees every object’s magic contained by the red thread-like magic. Looking back down to the skull, Hermione pauses to think.

Casting a glance at the three large magic lifeforms, she turns back to the skull. Looking around, she breaks off a piece of wood from the crate. There’s a few magic residue coating one side. Touching the red magic, she gently widens it. Pursing her lips, she coats the parts of the strings she’s working with her Thrall, numbing the strings allowing for more maneuverability.

It also keeps the magic from alerting Mr. Borgin of her tampering. Quickly but efficiently, she stretches the red magic apart, and slowly starts to slide the wood in. At the same time, Hermione pulls the skull out. At one point, the red magic catches, and she pauses, stretching the strings again, and continues.

In a snapping sound, the skull is free, and the wood is caught, the red magic shrinking to fit around the smaller object. Smirking, Hermione sets the wood in the box, and _Disillusions_ the skull. Why Gellert’s skull is here and not confiscated is beyond her, but she’s grateful for it.

Levitating the skull next to her, she saunters past Draco and Daphne arguing about a candle, the two startling at her sudden departure. Rushing after her, Hermione smirks.

* * *

The trio make a quick stop to the Quidditch store, Draco losing himself in his glee. Hermione and Daphne traverse the broom attachment aisles, Hermione keeping the _Disillusioned_ skull close to her chest. Picking up a flashlight attachment, she pokes the three small bells, their red strings waving. Draco soon runs over, his face excited.

“Come on Hermione, I want to show you something!” He says breathlessly. Hermione sighs, but follows the Alpha outside. Leading them to a dark alley next to the shop, he makes them wait as he runs back into the store. Daphne puts her hands on her hips.

“What was so important for him that he needs us to—” Draco comes around the corner, a new broom in hand. Drawing himself up, he holds it up to Hermione. A bit shocked, she takes it, looking down at him curiously. Feeling it, she reads the handle. _Nimbus 2001_.

“Bloody hell Draco,” Daphne breaths, looking at the broom in awe. Hermione strokes it’s custom black color, the perfect sticks dyed black halfway and green the rest. The silver foot holders gleam.

“I already have one, and since I’m going to join the team this year, since Bole is stepping out. I figured that the whole team should have one—even if you’re the Reserve Seeker. You’re the first to get it though,” Draco rambles. Hermione looks up from the broom, giving Draco a smile.

“This is very considerate of you Draco, thank you,” Turning to Daphne, she raises an eyebrow.

“I don’t suppose you would like my _Nimbus 2000?_” Her eyes widen.

“Me?”

“I could give it to Astoria—”

“I’ll take it thank you very much!” Daphne squeaks.

* * *

At Flourish and Blotts, there’s still a long line of witches, but this time they can hear a man speaking. Standing at the edge of the crowd, Hermione easily spots Edward’s blond hair. Blinking, Hermione hears familiar voices.

“Merlin! Look at this line! We’ll never get to meet him!” She hears Ginny whine. Draco sneers to himself. The crowd opens up a bit to let the trio see the Weasley’s, Potter’s, Remus, and Sirius.

“Oh look, it’s the loser Gryffindor and the Blood Traitor,” Draco mutters under his breath. Hermione nudges Draco hard.

“At least _try_ to pretend to be civil,” She mutters. He ignores her, he sneers at the Weasley’s.

“If you want more copies of me with _the_ Alpha Harry Potter, son of the famous Alpha James Potter, come here!” They hear Gilderoy Lockhart cry. Hermione narrows her eyes, seeing Harry push through the crowd with a scowl on his face. James narrows his eyes, stalking his way towards the pompous Alpha. The crowd quiets a little, parting for the annoyed Alpha father.

Daphne crosses her arms, sighing as she catches a glimpse of Lockhart.

“Bet you want to get his picture too, Weasley, like that will ever happen with you all filthy as you are,” Draco drawls, targeting Ron. Ginny steps up, glaring.

“You leave my brother alone, prat!” Hermione glances over at Molly, who pulls Ginny back. Molly looks up at Hermione, her eyes contemplative.

“Does Weasel need his little sister to—” Hermione casually taps him hard with her new broom on the back of his legs. Draco shuts up.

“Pleasant afternoon.” Hermione says conversationally. The two families watch her, and Percy Weasley scowls at them. Then the other Malfoy’s arrive.

“What have we here . . . Arthur.”

* * *

Lord Malfoy strides forwards Flourish and Blotts. Hermione pulls Draco and Daphne to the side as the three families face off. Lord Malfoy notices it, seeing her neutral stance. His eyes narrow on Draco, who looks away.

≠ “Lucius.” Arthur says coldly.

“Busy time at the Ministry I hear, all those raids, I hope they’re paying you overtime?” ≠ Lord Malfoy drawls. His eyes narrow at Harry’s cauldron full of new, pristine books and Ginny’s new robes. His eyes flicker over to Ron, in his old tattered robes and his wrinkled books.

≠ “Obviously not, dear me, what’s the use of being a disgrace to the name of wizard if they don’t even pay you well for it?” Arthur flushes darker than his family.

“We have a very different idea of what disgraces the name of wizard, Malfoy.” He bites. ≠

“Clearly, with that obsession of yours, Weasley . . . One might suspect foul things, and here ≠ I thought your family could sink no lower—” ≠ Lord Malfoy is suddenly tackled backwards into a bookshelf by Arthur. James, the Weasleys, Sirius, and Harry start cheering Arthur on, while Molly, Lily, and Remus attempt to dissuade them.

Hermione pulls Daphne behind her, backing up from the scandalous scene. The two wizards are brawling in the store, using their fists and feet. Hermione glances around, seeing Hagrid. Quickly reaching over to grab Draco’s hand, she pulls them into another store, where they wait for Daphne’s parents.

* * *

At Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters, Eto and Elise flank Hermione as they wait for the Hogwarts Express. Only this time, Draco, Daphne, Astoria and their families wait with them. Hermione keeps one hand in her pocket, where her shrunken trunk and Err’sh’s cage are. She gave her happy blessing for her Familiar to go off ahead to go meet up with Mrs. Norris.

“What if the train doesn’t come? What if I won’t be Sorted into Slytherin House? What if—” Hermione taps Astoria’s nose, the young Alpha quieting.

“Hogwarts will know where to put you, ma Louvre, [my Wolf,]” Hermione says, and Daphne pats Astoria’s arm.

“Just don’t be a Gryffindor.” Draco states, sending Astoria into another fit. Just in time, the trio and Astoria board the Hogwarts Express.

* * *

They find an empty compartment, and put their luggage away when the rest of their year mates find them. Vincent and Gregory squeeze their way through the doorway, having grown even more bulkier over the summer. Right behind them, Beta Tracey saunters in. Astoria’s eyes grow big when she realizes she’s the youngest here.

The train begins to move, and Pansy and her group of Millicent, Flora, Hestia, and Omega Tracey come in. Theodore and Blaise make their way in a few minutes later. Silently, Hermione tweaks the magic of the compartment, making it larger on the inside. With everyone settled, Hermione looks out the window, seeing Err’sh swoop by once, then fly off ahead.

There’s a buzz of chatter as all of them talk, and Beta Tracy leans closer to Hermione.

“Hey, have you heard the rumors about the Market?” She asks.

“No, what is it?” Hermione murmurs back.

“It’s a whole network that started two years ago based on hearsay, apparently a Hufflepuff came up with the idea and a couple of Slytherins took over the building of it,”

“What can you buy?” Beta Tracey shrugs.

“Loads of things, even charms and protective objects. I can’t really say how much they cost, I’m still low in the ranks, but since we’re Slytherin, we get a discount.” Tracey Nettlebed replies.

“Are you even allowed to tell me this?” Hermione asks, and the Beta scoffs.

“Merlin’s beard, no, but anyone can see you’re going places, and I don’t fancy looking down the end of your wand—or hand,” She replies. “Besides, we’re dormmates—friends I hope—and Slytherin. We Snakes stick together.” Hermione smiles at her.

“I’d have to say you’re one of my best friends,” She says, and the Beta smiles back at her.

“Say, do you know who’s running the Market?” Hermione asks. Beta Tracey thinks for a moment.

“Well, you really only are informed of your ‘Liege-Lord or Lady’ and your ‘Vassal’. That way if someone is caught, the rest don’t get pulled in.” She explains.

“But I think I recall someone mentioning Sixth year Alpha Pucey was next to inherit Liege-Lordship, but he also had two rivals. Not to mention the rumor . . .” Beta Tracey trails off. Hermione raises an eyebrow.

“Some are whispering he wants to take your King-in-waiting of Slytherin title.”

* * *

The rest of the train ride is continues without a hitch, except that one moment when the train travels over the ravine. The entire compartment fell silent when they watch a flying car fly by the window. _Arthur’s_, flying car. Stepping off the train, she and her yearmates walk up the stairs to the carriages.

Two Thestrals are harnessed to each carriage, and Hermione sighs. The price for seeing the beautiful creatures isn’t worth it. Breaking off from her group, she walks along the carriages idly before she stops at the last carriage. There’s a small witch in it. Climbing up, the Thestrals starting to pull.

Dirty blond, wavy hair down to her waist in a loose ponytail, wide eyes, and a willowy figure. Hermione can’t pin her scent down. She’s reading a magazine upside down, Hermione narrows her eyes at the title. _The Quibbler_. Looking up into silver eyes, they stare back at her, swirling, giving her a continuously dazed look.

“You’re lonely aren’t you?” She says dreamily, and Hermione tilts her head.

“I am here aren’t I?”

The little witch puts _The Quibbler_ down.

“Not your soul.” The whimsical witch gets up. Unfalteringly, she wraps her arms tight around Hermione, planting herself comfortably on her lap. Hermione looks down at the smaller witch, blinking. Slowly she wraps her arms around the smaller witch. The strange girl snuggles closer to Hermione, completely at ease with Hermione’s presence.

“Have we met?” Hermione murmurs, surprisingly alright with this stranger clinging to her. The witch hums, nuzzling her shoulder.

“Oh, sorry about that, I’m Gamma Luna Lovegood,” The witch leans back, giving her an easy smile. Hermione’s eyes widen. House Lovegood was one of the few Vassal Houses to the Mendonica’s. Luna picks up Hermione’s hands, pressing their palms together.

“You have very nice fingers.” Luna comments airily.

“You have paint on yours.” Hermione drawls. Luna merely smiles.

— . —

_Calamaitatis_ = Disillusion Charm (Latin: Disillusion) 2x


End file.
